Mutant Son
by Nacomah
Summary: X-Men Movie Verse/HP Crossover. SLASH non-graphic. The Order discovers that Voldemort has an heir, a mutant named St. John Allerdyce. They bring him back to Headquarters where he meets the boy wonder. A relationship develops made more dangerous by the vicious war of which both are a part.
1. The Discovery of Voldemort's Heir

_Mutant Son_

Summary: X-Men Movie Verse/HP Crossover. SLASH (non-graphic). Pyro/Harry. The last thing Snape told the Order before he betrayed them was that Voldemort was searching for his son. The Order somehow finds his son before Voldemort does and makes a trip to Xavier's.

Warnings: Slash (not graphic). Crossover.

Disclaimer: None of it is mine

Long A.N. This is an edited, continuation of my piece under the username Dominus513. I had abandoned the story awhile ago and promptly forgot my password to both my fanfiction account and my e-mail account. Whoops. Hopefully I'll be able to update more frequently this summer. Anyway, this takes place in the summer after HBP. While it will take some from DH it won't follow it. As for the X-Men movies, this would take place before the second movie. Though I always estimated Bobby, John, and Rogue to be around seventeen during the events of X2, I postponed the events. I'm playing with the idea that, in this AU, either John was not present for Stryker's attack or pushing back those events even further. Also, I view John and Bobby as being very close, but figuring their relationship to have become strained from John's hostility towards Rogue. Given John's sexuality in this piece, I imagine that John even may have some sort of feelings for Bobby, thus explaining his behavior in X2 and hatred in X3. At the same time, I figure that John and Bobby would have an interesting relationship, somewhat turbulent. Fire and ice after all cancel each other out but they are also quite opposite forces. As for John's past, I am working with the common idea that John is from Australia like his comic book counterpart and also a runaway and street kid. One last thing (I know this A.N. is ridiculously long). While this is slash, it will not be too graphic for two reasons: (1) my focus here is more on John and Harry's developing emotional relationship instead of the physical one (for the most part) and (2) I hope more readers not traditionally into slash may be more comfortable reading it.

**_For those who have read this story all ready, I still suggest that you re-read it seeing as I have revised slightly, perhaps enough that no re-reading it will throw you off. _**

**Chapter One: The Discovery of Voldemort's Heir**

The Order gathered around the table, subdued as it had been for weeks. Dumbledore's death had hit them hard, preventing them from getting much work done, but this meeting promised to be not only important, but productive. They hadn't settled on a leader yet, but most looked towards Professor McGonagall and Mad-Eye Moody for guidance. That was why they were all surprised when Remus Lupin took the floor, looking well worn after his recent full moon excursions.

"Hello," he began, softly. There was no need to quiet the group down so he plowed full force into the issue at hand. "I know the last few weeks have been hard. Dumbledore's death was not just a set-back. We all lost someone dear to us, but we must move on from mourning. If Dumbledore knew that his death slowed down our resistance against Voldemort, I believe he would be disappointed. Personally, I know the last thing I would want to do is to disappoint him." He sent a smile at Kingsley Shackelbolt who nodded in agreement. Tonks winked at him from the back of the room.

This time he continued more loudly, confidence firmly instilled by this support. "Tonks, Minerva, and I have been reading through Dumbledore's journals and looking through those pensieve memories not exclusively entrusted to Harry, trying to find any direction to head in. As we know, he instructed Harry to keep his mission to himself."

Moody grunted. "I'm still not sure whether we should trust what seems to be an important task to the boy."

Mrs. Weasley sighed. "Though I don't lack trust in Harry, he _is_ just a boy. We should be protecting him not asking him to carry this great burden."

"I believe Potter has proven rather exceptional for his age. He is a promising wizard," Shackelbolt argued.

Mr. Weasley nodded in agreement. "I know you worry for him, Molly, but Harry no longer has the luxury of being just a boy."

Amelia Bones, who joined shortly after Dumbledore's death and what appeared to be the continued weakness of the Ministry, peered at Moody and Mrs. Weasley. "From what I understand so far, I do not believe that is the topic Lupin has brought up. Without Potter's willingness to share his information, any argument against Potter's involvement is futile."

Remus smiled gratefully at her. "Thank you, Amelia. We must trust both Dumbledore and Harry in this. We have trusted Dumbledore's leadership thus far, I believe we should continue. In fact, by reviewing his journals, we hope to find guidance from Dumbledore beyond the grave, so to speak. We found nothing of great importance after weeks of searching, but, this morning, Tonks found something."

A few murmurs broke out, some excited, some rather nervous. Even McGonagall seemed interested as she had not been there for this discovery. No one knew quite what to think. Could they do anything with Dumbledore gone? Was this their chance to show You-Know-Who that they were still there, ready to fight? Remus patiently waited for the murmuring to quiet down before continuing. "It seems that Snape left one piece of useful information before his betrayal." He saw the scowls appear on the faces of all in attendance as they heard the traitor's name. A few such as Moody sat up straighter, expressions of interest placed clearly on their faces. "It seems that three years before Voldemort's first defeat, a baby boy was born to a Madeline Allerdyce, a baby boy that was not her husband's. Dumbledore did not specify the details of his conception. It is curious after all, considering Madeline Allerdyce is a Muggle. Nevertheless, the evidence is clear; this boy is Voldemort's son, a son he has been searching for since his return. Dumbledore put great efforts into hiding the boy."

This time there were loud outbursts of surprise and nervousness. The boy would be old enough to do some real damage by now and even the Weasley twins knew this was serious.

"For his protection or for the wizarding world's?" Bill Weasley asked. He still looked pale from his recent clash with Greyback, but his face had finally begun to heal. Fleur Delecour protectively grasped his hand.

Tonks shrugged. "Dumbledore made no mention. But I doubt Dumbledore viewed him as a serious threat as a baby. I mean just because he is You-Know-Who's son doesn't automatically make him evil."

Moody looked unconvinced. "Some wizards are born bad seeds." The Order, used to Moody's bleak view of human nature, continued past the comment.

"Has You-Know-Who found the boy?" McGonagall asked over the noise, voicing everyone's question.

"No," Tonks spoke up again from the back of the room. A smile appeared on her face. "But we have."

Moody stood up, his scarred face eerily alighted with doubt. "How is it that we have found him when Voldemort could not?" he growled out, paranoid as usual. "I say it's a trap." Others added in their agreement.

Remus tried to get them to quiet down but his calm voice and manner made it impossible. Tonks, watching her husband struggle, stood up and shouted, "Quiet!" To Remus's surprise it worked and the room's attention was back on him. He shot Tonks a grateful look.

"We didn't find him," he grabbed a journal off the table in front of him, holding it up for all to see. "Dumbledore did. He got in touch with an old friend of his who had the means to find anyone on this earth. Fortunately, he didn't have to look far; the boy was conveniently under his very nose, attending his school."

McGonagall took the journal in her hands, gazing at Dumbledore's slanted handwriting. She sniffed, perhaps in grief, and looked over the rim of her classes at her old student. "Charles Xavier?" she recognized the name. However, she continued to focus on the main topic of discussion. "How is it that You-Know-Who could not find him?"

Remus smiled faintly. "Even if Voldemort tracked down the mother, she had abandoned St. John years ago. It appears that St. John Allerdyce also had problems with his adopted father. He ran away a couple of years ago and found his way to New York from Sydney. Professor Xavier himself did not even know the boy was Australian."

"What are we going to do about it?" Moody growled. "Will we dispose of the threat?"

McGonagall glared at him. "Mad-Eye, we don't _dispose_ of children."

He glared right back. "Well, if we did, people like You-Know-Who wouldn't exist. Dumbledore knew the nutter was off the minute he laid eyes on him." The Weasley twins snickered as Moody referred to the feared Dark Lord as a nutter. Mrs. Weasley glared at her sons, clearly still upset at their Order membership. Apparently Moody's comment did not go over well with McGonagall as she turned her back on him and gave Remus her full attention.

"We must bring this boy here. Recruit him or protect him. Whichever we can," she decided.

"I agree," Mr. Weasley butted in, followed by his wife and a few others.

Kingsely eyed Remus carefully before asking, "How powerful is he? Would he be of any help?"

Remus smiled ironically. "Oh yes, according to Professor Xavier, he is very powerful, just not in the way you are referring to," he told the room. "St. John is a mutant, not a wizard, and attends Xavier's Institute for Gifted Youngsters, or mutants as the case may be. Tonks and I plan to visit Xavier tomorrow to bring the boy back with us."

McGonagall nodded her head in agreement. "I will join you." The room's occupants exchanged worried glances, but no one argued. Tomorrow night, they would meet Voldemort's heir.

* * *

><p>"Would you like any tea?" Professor Xavier offered his guests kindly. He had quickly discovered there was no use in trying to read their minds as, apparently, they were able to block him. This fact didn't bother him, though. He remembered his old friend mentioning the names of Minerva McGonagall, Nymphadora Tonks and Remus Lupin before. His team leader, Scott Summers, didn't appear to be as trusting as he, however. Logan, also part of the meeting while the other two teachers were recruiting a mutant teenager in Missouri, seemed to trust the professor's judgment.<p>

"That would be much appreciated," McGonagall nodded.

"Yes, please," Remus responded with a smile. Tonks politely declined from her place at his side.

Xavier, however, did not get distracted with pleasantries and got straight to the matter. "I assume you are here about St. John. Albus contacted me months ago about him. How is my old friend?"

His guests looked down at the floor sadly and Xavier's stomach turned. "Professor Dumbledore was killed three weeks ago," Tonks answered bitterly. "By someone he thought he could trust."

The X-Men looked at the Professor, to see how he took it. _I'm fine_, he communicated to them mentally. Then, to his guests he said aloud, "Albus was a great man. He spoke very highly of you three." His eyes turned to McGonagall. "I trust that you are Hogwart's new head."

McGonagall nodded solemnly. "It is indeed big shoes to fill. There will never be another Albus Dumbledore."

"I am sure you will do an exceptional job," Xavier cleared his throat, moving his own mourning to the back of his mind as he focused on his student. "Albus said St. John is the son of the wizard you are fighting, Voldemort I believe his name is."

"What do you want with him?" Scott asked, not trusting the new comers. John was a particular favorite of Scott's. His often exposure to the student, either in class, in detentions, or in the company of one Bobby Drake, had brought John to high esteem in Scott's eyes, an opinion not particularly shared by the other teachers, Xavier excluded.

"We wish him no harm. Nor do we wish to force him to do anything for us. However, there's only a matter of time before Voldemort finds him," Remus told him. "We have a safe haven that we can keep St. John. We want to introduce him to our world and see what he decides to do. He is nineteen, am I right?"

The Professor nodded. "Do you truly believe that John is in danger?"

"We do not think that You-Know-Who will be receptive towards a mutant son. This automatically puts the boy in danger."

"We can keep him safe," Tonks assured him.

"_We_ can keep him safe," Logan said gruffly. Remus glanced at him.

"Maybe against a Muggle or mutant threat," he responded. "But Voldemort is like nothing you have ever faced. He is ruthless and if he finds that his own son is impure as he would put it, he will kill him. Not to mention the danger in which you would put your students."

Xavier nodded at him. The safety of his students was his main priority. "Scott, why don't you find St. John and bring him here," he asked.

It was Logan who responded, however. "There no need to find him," he said smirking in a way that made Tonks nervous. It was simply animalistic. "I believe him and Iceman are having an argument."

"How can you tell?" Tonks asked curiously.

Logan pointed towards the window. "The trees are on fire again." And so they were.


	2. Meeting St John Allerdyce

_Mutant Son_

Summary: X-Men Movie Verse/HP Crossover. SLASH (non-graphic). Pyro/Harry. The last thing Snape told the Order before he betrayed them was that Voldemort was searching for his son. The Order somehow finds his son before Voldemort does and makes a trip to Xavier's.

Warnings: Slash (not graphic). Crossover.

Disclaimer: None of it is mine

AN: In my story, Voldemort would hate mutants because he views them as Muggles with powers, almost as bad as Muggle-borns maybe more so.

**Chapter Two: Meeting St. John Allerdyce**

"I don't get what the big deal is," a boy with brown hair, dressed in what Remus assumed was a Muggle band t-shirt and jeans. "It was only a little tree."

Another boy, this one blue eyed with blond hair, followed him in. "We're really sorry, Professor," he said taking an empty seat. "It was an accident."

"Like hell it was," the dark haired boy replied.

The Professor looked amused even as he leveled his eyes on the boy. "Mind your language John." It seemed as if the Professor only used the name St. John when not in his presence. All three wizards decided to follow his lead.

Remus took in the boy. So this was Voldemort's son? He seemed to have inherited the arrogance but was undeniably less covert in his slightly criminal behavior. The boy next to him, though, seemed kind natured. "And you are not here about the tree."

"The tree just made it easier in locating you," Tonks piped in.

"See I told you they wouldn't care about the tree. We're not exactly short on 'em." He turned to look at Tonks and Remus, apparently noticing that they were new.

"As many trees as we do have on campus, John, you should keep property damage to a minimum," Scott responded, apparently amused.

Scott eyed Bobby who put his arms up in a signal of innocence. "Don't look at me. This was all on him. Did you _see_ anything frozen?"

John rolled his eyes. "That's only because you wouldn't fight back. Damn irritating."

Remus glanced at the two boys. Despite their conflicting temperaments and their apparent violent approach to arguing, they appeared to be friends.

"Actually we are only here to speak to you, John," Remus replied. "As for…" he trailed off not knowing the other boy's name.

"Bobby Drake," the blond supplied.

"Well, Bobby, I don't see why you have to be here," he turned to look at the Professor.

Logan, however, was the one to respond, "The two are inseparable, you tell one, the other's gonna hear about it."

"I'd imagine it would be much like your Mr. Potter and his friends," the Professor put in genially.

Tonks snorted, her hair turning purple as she did so. None of the occupants seemed very impressed with that display of power. "Except the Golden Trio don't exactly attack each other, burning trees down in the process."

"This is great fun," John sneered. "Really, but I have other things to do…"

Bobby laughed, "Staring at your lighter all day doesn't really count as something to do."

"Does he ever just shut up?" Tonks asked, referring to John, a cross between amused and annoyed. She too took in Voldemort's heir. She couldn't say she was impressed, fearing that he was too much like his old man.

"Never when you want him to," Bobby and Scott responded at the same time. To be truthful she was rather surprised to hear the elder one speak to them in an unaggressive manner. He had been glowering at them from the corner during almost the entirety of the meeting. John only rolled his eyes.

"As amusing as this is," Logan put in. "Maybe we should get down to business. Inform Pyro of why he's here."

McGonagall then turned to the boy in question. "Would you like Mr. Drake to be here for this?"

John glanced over at his friend. "Whatever."

_That means yes_, the Professor informed his guests. "John, this is Remus Lupin, Minerva McGonagall, and Nymphadora Tonks," he introduced.

"Nymphadora?" Bobby asked at the same time as John snorted at Remus's name.

"Remus like Remus and Romulus?

McGonagall held back a smile. "Yes and yes. However, I believe we should get to the matter at hand?" she eyed Xavier who nodded in agreement.

"John, how much do you know about your father?" Xavier asked.

"That he was a mean drunk," John flicked his lighter. "And apparently was convinced I wasn't his."

The adults in the room exchanged glances and seemed to decide at once for a familiar adult to break the news to him. "That's because you weren't, John," Scott informed him gently, or as gently as he ever seemed to put things from what Remus could guess. John seemed to be a favorite of Cyclops'. That was at least partially re-assuring.

John continued to stare at them.

"Okay…" he trailed off, looking at Bobby as if he could explain why this piece of information was important.

"There's more," McGonagall continued. "Remus if you please…it is after all your meeting."

"Thank you, Minerva." H turned towards John, "We're here because we're familiar with your birth father. I must ask that you hold any questions until I'm done, then I welcome any questions."

Tonks rolled her eyes. "Yes, professor," she said sarcastically, winking at Bobby who seemed amused by her antics.

"Any way, this may come as a surprise but I must ask you to trust us, or to at least trust that your Professor would not let us lie to you. There's a world quite separate from your own where magic exists. Wands, broom sticks, and cauldrons included." Remus smiled kindly, very familiar with the connection to Muggle stories.

He continued. "We are wizards—"

"And witches," Tonks offered helpfully. McGonagall sent her a reproachful look. Tonks smiled cheekily.

"Yes, and witches," Remus agreed. "You're father, your birth one, is also a wizard, a quite infamous one, in fact. You see, the Wizarding world is in the middle of a second war, the first of which began before you were born. But this is not a war between countries. Perhaps you can view it as a civil war, though threatening the international community.

"Both wars have been fought against the same enemy. About 27 years ago, a man named Tom Marvelo Riddle launched a violent campaign against all those connected to non-magical people or Muggles as we call them. He wished to either eradicate them or put them in what he believed to be their rightful place. There is a section of our society that believes in what they call purity. They refer to themselves as Purebloods, claiming to be untainted by the dirty blood of Muggles and 'Mud-bloods' or Muggle-borns as most respectable wizards call them. Tom Riddle organized this group, taking on followers and proclaiming himself Lord Voldemort. In the two wars, he killed and tortured, attempting to overthrow our ministry and create a new world order." Remus looked at him sympathetically. "Lord Voldemort is your father."

There was quiet for a few moments as the information sunk in. "So I go from having a drunk as a father to a murderer?" John asked. His face remained neutral but by the way his friend and professors looked worriedly at him, Remus took this to be a mask. "Why come looking for a murderer's son, then?"

"Since his return three years ago, he's been looking for you," Tonks explained, sizing him up. "As you are not a wizard, chances are, when he finds you, he'll kill you."

"Well, I'm not exactly powerless," he sneered. "Maybe we can agree that humans are below us."

"Great," Tonks looked at Remus. "A mini-You-Know-Who." McGonagall shushed her though she too looked worried.

"You know who?" Bobby asked quietly.

"You-Know-Who, or the Dark Lord, has killed and ruined so many people's lives that all fear to speak his name. With a few obvious exceptions," McGonagall explained.

"And one would be Mr. Lupin," Bobby responded. "So what are you going to do with John? I'm guessing he's in danger."

The Professor decided he should take it from that point. "Minerva, Remus and Tonks have a place where John will be safe, he'll—"

"What? I'm supposed to hide?" John asked incredulous. "If the man wants to kill me I can protect myself."

"You'll hide for a while," Remus broke in. "Until you're ready to fight if you wish to do so. It is a terrible time. The only person Voldemort has ever feared is dead and the only one that can fight him off is still only sixteen. Just give us a chance. We only wish to keep you alive."

"Or to make sure the other side doesn't get me."

"Smart kid," Tonks decided. It did not quite seem like a compliment as his earlier comment left her untrusting.

"Smart ass is more like it," Logan provided.

"Logan, I'd appreciate that you too refrain from such language."

Scott smiled, seemingly enjoying a moment of immaturity as he watched Logan get scolded.

McGonagall ignored all this, eying John. "Will you come with us?"

"He will," Bobby responded before John could even open his mouth. John glared at him.

"Last time I checked Drake, I still get to decide what I will and will not do," he replied.

Bobby shook his head. "No, you are reckless and would get yourself killed if you were left to make that decision." John was about to argue but Bobby continued. "Johnny, please. This is serious. You once told me surviving is what you do best. Right now, I think going with them gives you the best chance of doing that."

John looked at his friend for a few moments before glancing around the room. His eyes landed on Scott, the Professor, and finally the newcomers. He sighed. "Fine. When do we leave?"

* * *

><p>The Order gathered around the dining room table of Headquarters. They were joined by the two youngest Weasleys: Ron and Ginny, as well as Hermione Granger. The first whispered to the two girls, "So we're waiting for You-Know-Who's son to bloody pop out of the fire place. Anyone else find this stupid?"<p>

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Ronald, just because he's his son doesn't mean he's evil.

Ron only looked at her incredulously. "You have met Draco Malfoy haven't you?"

"That's different," Ginny agreed with Hermione. "Draco was raised by his parents." She still looked uneasy. "I _am_ a little worried that he'll look just like his father, though. I still have nightmares about the Chamber. I don't need more."

"Well, I guess we'll find out soon," Ron pointed to Remus who just came through the fireplace followed by a boy who was probably only slightly taller than Harry.

"That was awesome," the boy declared grinning. He looked at the fire like someone would look at a lover. Ron raised his eyebrow as he looked over at Hermione who shrugged.

"Wow," Ginny breathed. "Thank God."

"What?" Hermione and Ron asked together.

"He doesn't look like his father," she paused. "And he's hot."

"Aren't you supposed to be dating my best mate?" Ron asked, immediately worrying over his sister's love life.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Harry broke up with her remember?"

Ron shrugged. "That doesn't mean it has to last."

McGonagall and Tonks joined Remus and John in the dining room. "Everyone," Remus addressed the room, "this is St. John Allerdyce. John, let me introduce you to the Order of Phoenix."

John still seemed rather distracted by the fire. Seeing this, McGonagall put it out and John finally looked to the rest of the room. "Yeah, I'm your evil guy's son," he confirmed unhelpfully.

The Order of Phoenix took in the son of the most powerful dark wizard of the age. No one seemed to know what to do. John fidgeted while maintaining a bored expression.

Mrs. Weasley took a breath, ready to make the first move. "You look famished. Way too thin if you ask me. Let me get you something to eat." She hurried into the kitchen.

The others watched her leave before they began to greet John cautiously. St. John Allerdyce had arrived in the wizarding world.


	3. His Enemy's Heir

_Mutant Son_

Summary: X-Men Movie Verse/HP Crossover. SLASH (non-graphic). Pyro/Harry. The last thing Snape told the Order before he betrayed them was that Voldemort was searching for his son. The Order somehow finds his son before Voldemort does and makes a trip to Xavier's.

Warnings: Slash (not graphic). Crossover.

Disclaimer: None of it is mine

**Chapter Three: His Enemy's Heir**

Harry Potter was bored and, seeing as he was bored, decided that banging his head against the window was a good idea. That was until he did so and discovered that it hurt. "Ow," he muttered miserably.

"What're you doing?" Harry turned to spot his cousin Dudley at the door watching Harry as he ate an ice cream.

"Dying of boredom," he responded glancing at Dudley curiously. "What're you doing here?"

"You have mail," Dudley waved an envelope and put it down on the dresser beside him. "And I didn't read it or let my dad know you got it."

"Er…thanks?"

"No problem." Then he was gone. Harry knew that had to be the strangest conversation he ever had with his cousin. As he got up to open the envelope he realized that it was also the only kind of conversation he ever had with his cousin. He glanced again at the open door.

Then again, the whole situation was odd. Since when did he get Muggle post? There was no return address. At least this time there was only one stamp. He tore the letter open.

_Harry_,

_Meet me at Mrs. Figg's tonight at 9. Remain under your invisibility cloak. The Order will pick up your belongings._

_Moony._

Harry couldn't believe it. He was leaving Privet Drive for the last time ever, almost two months before his birthday. This had been his shortest stay yet.

He tucked the letter into his oversized pocket and hurried to pack his things even though he had a couple of hours until he left. There would be no missing this place. He was finally escaping, even if he was returning to a world at war.

But Harry couldn't sit back any more. Too many people had died. Every death was a death that he could prevent by killing Voldemort, by fulfilling the prophecy, but first he had to get the Horcruxes. He yawned as he packed. The idea of hunting them down was rather daunting, perhaps even more so than his eventual battle with Voldemort. Harry couldn't remember a time in his life that he was more tired. But he could do this. Dumbledore had had faith in him. He was the Boy-Who-Lived.

* * *

><p>Remus watched as Harry quietly tip toed past the portrait of Sirius' mother, glancing about himself. It struck him that it was the first time Harry had been back to the house since Sirius had died. He shook the thought out of his head.<p>

"No need to be quiet," Remus informed him, pulling back the curtain that used to hide Mrs. Black. The only thing left was a frame blackened by char. Harry glanced at him curiously. "Our new guest tried something we never thought of."

"Fire?" Harry guessed the obvious. Remus saw the curiosity spark in Harry's eyes as he opened his mouth to question Remus on this apparent guest.

"Don't worry," he smiled. "You'll meet him."

"Who's 'him?'" Harry asked curiously, keeping an eye out as if expecting to be accosted at any moment, probably by Hermione. "New Order member?"

Remus paused. He hated to think that he didn't know his best friends' son enough to guess how he'd react. Harry was definitely hot-headed, an unfortunate combination of both parents' tempers, but could Harry hate someone just because of whom the person was born to? Remus believed that Harry had his mother's tolerance. Lily could see the best in everyone. James often separated people into black and white, but he too would help anyone in need. The incident with Snape in sixth years came to mind. But Harry of all people should know that you couldn't help who your family was.

John had received mixed reactions from even the adults. While Remus was amused by the boy, his attitude had left many wary of him. He couldn't deny, however, that the Order looked at him slightly more positively after he burnt down Mrs. Black. Then again that could've just been relief. That woman was just as much a nuisance as she had been when she was alive and well, sending Sirius weekly howlers. Remus shook his head. He could not dwell on his friends. It hurt too much and he had to be strong. Dumbledore was gone and they were losing the war.

"No," he finally let out. "John's only a little older than you. Nineteen. We're protecting him and teaching him about our world."

Harry raised his eyebrows but asked no more questions on the subject. Which was odd to say the least. Harry always wanted to know more than he should. "How are you?" Harry asked instead. "I mean with Snape gone, do you have any Wolfsbane to get through the full moon?"

Remus smiled tightly. Ever Lily's son. "I'm fine."

* * *

><p>Harry snorted at Remus's words as they paused in front of the dining room door. "You can't use that line on the master of it," he told Remus as he opened the door to the dining room. He braced himself as he heard the squeals and quickly caught the blur of brown hair which was one of his best friends. Hermione gave him a quick, if not painful looking, hug and pulled herself away from him.<p>

"You've grown again," she stated with a smile.

"Not much," Ron added, smiling over at him as well. "Nice catch by the way." Another red head stood next to her brother, beautiful even without a smile. Harry's stomach twisted ever so slightly.

"Ginny," he politely smiled. "How are you?"

"Been better."

"Could be worse," he decided as he took a seat in front of a huge plate of food. She only glared at him and it was all he could do to hold in the wince. A pissed off Weasley was never a good thing. Adding Ginny's hexing skills, he thanked whatever power that she wasn't of age yet. He turned to greet Tonks and Mrs. Weasley, the only two left in the room to be greeted. After the elder finished fussing over him, she turned to Ron.

"Ronald, dear. Go fetch St. John."

He didn't look to happy about it but went to do so anyway. "Who's this John bloke anyway?" Harry asked Hermione.

"Well," Hermione said bracingly. Apparently she decided the direct approach best. "Actually, he's You-Know-Who's son." There was a silence as everyone waited for him to react.

"I thought Voldemort was the last heir of Slytherin?" he asked, looking around the table.

"So did we," Tonks informed him. "John was raised by a man he thought to be his father until he came into his powers."

"You come into your powers?" Harry asked. He thought magic was a part of you since birth.

"When you're a mutant you do," came a voice from the door. Harry glanced over and watched as a boy came casually walking in. He wore regular jeans and a ratty t-shirt, his brown hair slicked back.

"Well that's new territory," Harry said slowly, then suddenly grinned turning to Remus. "Can we introduce him to my aunt and uncle; they'd have a heart attack." Harry thought about it for a second. Would it be worth it? Completely. Ron seemed to be considering the merits of the idea as well.

John sat down in the vacant chair a couple of chairs across and over from Harry, right next to Ginny who looked pleased. Harry decided to ignore the look on her face. John began to play with a lighter, letting it clink open and shut.

"John, no fire at the table," Mrs. Weasley scolded just as she scolded the twins during their tame moments. John flipped it open and shut with a resounding metallic click before putting it down on the table.

"American?" Harry asked, eying him curiously.

"Australian," John provided.

Hermione looked at him curiously. "But you don't have an Australian accent."

John shrugged. Everyone at the table seemed to be listening to the conversation. Despite his two week presence and occasional comments, John had mostly stuck to himself. Most of the Order still knew nothing of his personality. Remus in particular was interested.

"I lost it. A kid with an Aussie accent would be hard to miss on the streets of New York."

This time Ginny joined the conversation. "Streets?" she asked. Remus listened carefully.

John picked up his lighter. Harry noticed that he seemed to have an unhealthy attachment to it. It was probably connected to his mutation somehow. Or the mutant was just dying for a cigarette or something.

"Yeah," John answered. "I spent two years on the street after I ran away from Sydney."

"Sounds fun," Harry responded.

"Loads," John said neutrally. Somehow Harry doubted it.


	4. His Father's Son

_Mutant Son_

Summary: X-Men Movie Verse/HP Crossover. SLASH (non-graphic). Pyro/Harry. The last thing Snape told the Order before he betrayed them was that Voldemort was searching for his son. The Order somehow finds his son before Voldemort does and makes a trip to Xavier's.

Warnings: Slash (not graphic). Crossover.

Disclaimer: None of it is mine

**Chapter Four: His Father's Son **

_Harry stood in a field of blood. It was on every blade of grass, every grain of sand, and as he looked down at his hands, he was covered in it. Desperately he tried to wipe it off but every time he could see his bare hand, blood would again appear. He gave up, looking hopelessly around. He started. He wasn't alone anymore._

_Dark shadows, in the shape of people, began walking towards him. The notion of moving didn't even come to him. They got so close that he could see their faces, covered in blood. His parents, Cedric, Sirius, Dumbledore, other faces he didn't recognize staring blankly at him and he screamed and screamed and….._

Harry shot up in bed in a silent scream. He still felt wet and sticky but checking himself over, he was relieved to see that he was covered in sweat, not blood. He felt like he could still see it. Then he remembered those faces. The people he couldn't save. The people he got killed.

He numbly stumbled out of bed to the adjoining bathroom and turned the shower on to its hottest temperature before sitting in the tub, not even bothering to undress. He closed his eyes, trying to erase the dream. But he couldn't. Just like he couldn't erase the ones from the nights before. God he was so tired. The hot water burned at his skin; somehow it was soothing. Good, he wasn't dreaming. He snorted. Like his life was any better when he was awake?

* * *

><p>Fifteen minutes later, Harry swung the kitchen door open and paused to see he wasn't the only one up. Voldemort's son turned to look at him from his place flicking his lighter open. He raised an eyebrow.<p>

"Couldn't sleep either?" Harry asked as he walked over to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of butterbeer.

John shrugged. "Bobby usually drags me down at this time of night so he can raid the freezer for ice-cream."

"Bobby?"

"Roommate…ice to my fire and all that shit," John explained while he watched Harry chug down his drink. "That works better when there's actual alcohol involved."

Harry smiled. "Nah, just thirsty," he responded.

"You're dripping all over the fucking floor. Anyone who throws themselves in a shower fully clothed can use a real drink," he snarked. Harry had forgotten that he was wet. He shrugged and took a seat across from John, watching him curiously.

"So you're a mutant," he said, "and Voldemort's son. How's that going for you?"

"Another father who wants me dead?" John replied. "Doesn't change much. At least this one has the balls to do it."

Harry watched John continue with his lighter. "So what's your power?"

John smirked. "I control fire. They call me Pyro," he informed Harry before looking at him for a few moments. "So you call my father by his name."

Harry grinned. "Well, I can't exactly say 'So You-Know-Who how's it going' every time he tries to kill me. It's poor manners."

John studied him for a moment. "I like you," he seemed to decide as he stood. "And take that as a compliment. Not many people can say that." With that he walked out of the kitchen.

Strange guy, Harry decided. He didn't even realize he wasn't thinking about his dreams anymore.

* * *

><p>"Don't tell me we're still bloody cleaning this room?" Harry begged as he entered the drawing room, diligently ignoring the Black Family Tree.<p>

"Language," Hermione warned. "And no, the cleaning is done." Harry glanced around to see that only she, Ron, and Ginny were in the room.

"So what are we doing then?" he asked taking an empty seat, right next to his ex-girlfriend. He inwardly winced at his decision, but it would be rude to get up.

"What do you think of Pyro?" Ron asked.

Harry shrugged. "I don't actually know him. Why?"

Hermione sighed. "Ronald here thinks he's not to be trusted, citing the fact that he's Voldemort's son as proof."

"You hear the things he says!" Ron said exasperatedly. "He hates Muggles just as much as his father does. Of course he calls them humans," he stressed the last word. "He doesn't even count himself among humanity. He calls himself Pyro for merlin's sake."

Rolling her eyes, Hermione cut in, "That's because he's thinking in scientific terms. Humans are another name for homo-sapien-sapiens. Some scientists specializing in mutants have named mutants homo-sapien-superior, so technically speaking they would not be 'human.' That is of course disregarding the debate on what makes us human. For example, would a Neanderthal be considered human?"

Ron opened his mouth to either continue his previous thought or to answer the question posed (though Harry doubted it), only to have his sister cut him off. "Come on Ron, he's not that bad," she said seriously. "He hasn't done anything wrong."

"You only say that because you think he's good looking," Ron said annoyed. That explained the looks she kept sending at John, Harry thought. "Plus he hasn't done anything wrong _yet_. And you see the way he plays with his mutation. The guy's a nutcase. Harry what do you think?"

He shrugged. "Well, obviously he's not the good guy of the year, but he's not looking to join Voldemort either. The worst that could be said is that he may remain neutral."

And as was the case when one tried to have a secret conversation in a house full of too many people, their subject walked in. Harry paused and all four looked at him.

"What?" he asked.

Ginny shrugged. "Well, we were just talking about what side we think you'll take in the war," she said as if they were talking about the weather. "Harry thinks you'll be neutral."

"Do I really come off as a neutral kind of guy?"

The four wizards exchanged glances. "Don't look at me," Ron said. "I say he's evil." Hermione looked as if she was going to hit him before she instead turned to John.

"Well, I honestly don't think you'll fight for someone who wants your kind dead," she said.

"Plus you don't strike me as either a mass murderer or a hero. That leaves neutral," Harry added.

"Well, obviously, I don't want my kind dead" John scoffed. "I may have loose morals but they're not that loose." He walked over, smirk on his face, and sat down on the window ledge not too far from Harry. "As for murderer versus hero, there's a lot of space between the two. Shades of grey. I flourish in shades of grey." He studied Harry for a minute. "You and your buddies on the other hand fit perfectly into the White Hat category."

"White Hat?" Harry asked.

John rolled his eyes. "Good guys. Wizard X-men or something. You remind me of Bobby." It didn't sound like a good thing.

"Isn't Bobby the…what was it again?" Harry paused. "The ice to your fire."

"And a fucking martyr," John included helpfully. "White Hat that he is, he doesn't recognize his power over humans. We _are_ better than them. I can agree with daddy dearest on that. But would I ever put a wizard above myself? No. I'm evolution. You guys are just the same old."

"A bit cocky, aren't you?" Harry looked at the other boy curiously.

"I think cocky son-of-a-bitch is the wording you're looking for," he took a seat next to Harry. He flicked his lighter and formed a fire ball and seemed intoxicated with the thing. "To hold power in the palm of your hand? There's nothing like it." He turned his eyes to Harry's. "They say you're the only thing standing between my father and world domination. Don't tell me that kind of power doesn't make you feel good." John moved the flames closer to him. It singed the hair of his arm a bit but he like that little touch of pain, just as the burning hot showers soothed him.

"No," Harry finally said as his friends looked on. "It makes me responsible. It won't feel good until Voldemort's dead and even then too much has been lost."

"But isn't that war?" John asked, snuffing the flame out. "Survival of the fittest. It's all about power."

"There is no good or evil. Only power and those too weak to see it," Harry repeated the words Voldemort had spoken to him all those years ago.

John looked at Harry. "Hey, you said it." John held his gaze on Harry before leaving, not once turning back.

"Oh my God," Ginny said, turning to look at her brother and Hermione. "Was he just flirting with Harry?"

"Wait, huh?" Harry asked just as Ron spluttered a bit. They exchanged confused glances.

"It looked as if," Hermione agreed. As the boys looked at her incredulously, she sighed, leaning closer to her best friend. "Harry, his eyes were on you the whole time and he was practically whispering in your ear."

"He was talking about power," Ron said. "I don't see how that connects."

"Ron, you've seen the way he is with his power," Ginny said point blank. "It turns him on."

Harry laughed. "Guys you're reading too much into it. That means he was enjoying his power just as he was talking to me." Harry was sure that was it. He wasn't exactly the guy everyone wanted. And the idea of it being another guy? Well, that would be a first.

"Whatever you say, Harry," Ginny said, before walking out of the room. "I'll just go ask him."

"Wait, she's not serious is she?" Harry asked, wondering if he should chase after her. He turned to his two best friends.

"I wouldn't put it past her," Ron replied and Harry groaned.

* * *

><p>"Hey, John! Wait up!" Ginny quickly caught up to the boy in question. "What was that about?"<p>

John glanced over at the red-head. "What do you mean?"

"Don't play with me," she rolled her eyes. "I was in that room too. Not that you noticed." She paused studying him for a moment as he waited for her to continue. "You're gay aren't you?"

He laughed as he continued walking down stairs. He paused for a moment and smirked up at her. "Why? You interested? Don't worry. I've been known to make exceptions. It depends on my options."

"Too bad Harry isn't. An option, I mean" Ginny responded pointedly, watching the side of the pyromaniac's head. He turned and grinned at her.

"Oh, I see how it is," his grin made her slightly nervous. "Threatened, princess?"

"Harry loves me," she told him. "The only reason we're not together is that he's trying to protect me. He's noble."

"Don't worry, I'm not looking for a relationship. I'm just looking for a quick fuck. You can have him back after that."

Ginny stopped in her tracks, and gaped after him.


	5. Flirtation and Tragedy

_Mutant Son_

Summary: X-Men Movie Verse/HP Crossover. SLASH (non-graphic). Pyro/Harry. The last thing Snape told the Order before he betrayed them was that Voldemort was searching for his son. The Order somehow finds his son before Voldemort does and makes a trip to Xavier's.

Warnings: Slash (not graphic). Crossover.

Disclaimer: None of it is mine

A.N. So I feel like the pace of story is constantly changing. Suspension of disbelief requested?

**Chapter Five: Flirtation and Tragedy**

When Harry entered the kitchen, he wasn't surprised to see John. The surprising part was the fact that John was going through the cabinets. At least this time Harry had taken his steaming shower the traditional way: without clothes. His hair was still dripping wet and his skin was red from where the hot water hit his skin, but at least his clothes were dry.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

John only glanced up to acknowledge him before continuing to rifle through the cabinet's contents. "Looking for some sort of alcohol." Harry made his way to the cabinet and sat himself on the counter next to it. He watched as John seemed to get increasingly frustrated.

"There are underage wizards in the house," Harry explained. "They're not just going to keep it in plain sight." Harry tilted his head in thought. "With the stress from the war I'd expect there to be something somewhere. Then again, I wouldn't be surprised if Mrs. Weasley made this place alcohol free. She liked to give Sirius a hard time about the fire whiskey."

"Who's Sirius?" John asked absent mindedly. It didn't seem as if he really wanted to know, just passively rectifying his own lack of knowledge.

Harry paused though he didn't know why. He had mostly come to terms with Sirius's death though that guilt lingered. "Sirius was my godfather. He died a little over a year ago. Killed actually."

"Come to think of it, someone might have mentioned that," John offered no condolences, seemingly not caring for social niceties. Instead he let out a frustrated sigh. "That guy with the weird eye always has a flask and he's here a lot. He must refill it somewhere." He shoved a chipped cup out of his way and rolled his eyes when it revealed nothing. He straightened up and grabbed a cigarette from his pocket, smoothly lighting it up and placing it between his lips. "Isn't this your house or something? Wouldn't it be up to you whether you wanted booze in the house? You mind?" he gestured at the cigarette.

Harry shook his head, though he was a bit surprised that John had asked. "I'm sixteen. Like they'd trust me with anything, let alone the headquarters of the Order of Phoenix," Harry responded bitterly. He eyed John's abandoned pack of lights.

John raised his eyebrows and Harry wondered how he managed to flawlessly occupy the bad boy persona, almost naturally. If John was older, Harry was sure he would look at the boy in the same way as he looked at Bill, as the impressive "cool" guy. "You smoke?"

"No," Harry responded. "Wouldn't exactly be able to walk down the street and buy a pack anyway. Too young. Plus the whole locked in a house for my own protection. Could I try one?"

"They'll kill you."

Harry snorted. "Yeah, well, your father's got dibs on those rights." Nevertheless, he didn't push for one. Instead, Harry turned to see John watching him with a grin. "How about you? Do you listen to your own advice?"

"Live fast and die hard," John responded. "I do whatever the hell I want, plus its intoxicating. I can feel the flame flare slightly every time I inhale." He closed his eyes. John offered Harry his cigarette. Harry eyed it before grabbing it and taking a drag. "Every time you inhale," John continued. Harry was proud when he inhaled and didn't start to cough. That didn't last, however, and he choked out a few small coughs.

"Disgusting," Harry decided. John smirked, grabbed the cigarette, and flicked the ashes absently into the sink. Harry watched the embers curiously. "Magic doesn't feel that way. It's just like things just happen. Only two spells have ever made me feel anything. The Patronus and…well this spell I used on the Death Eater who killed my godfather."

"This Patronus thing particularly powerful?" his confidant asked as he pulled a small flame from his cigarette, the embers disappearing from the abandoned stick.

"So I hear."

"And that spell you used on my father's flunky. Probably hurt the bitch like hell," he decided. "Maybe it's the spells. There must be a reason that all those Death Eaters like dark magic like they do."

Harry never really thought about it like that. Bellatrix had said he really needed to feel the spell to make it work. Hadn't she laughed as if high as she tortured Neville? How about that flare of adrenaline he had felt as he (unsuccessfully) cast the Cruciatus Curse? "How did you know that I would've tried to hurt her?"

John shrugged. "She killed someone you cared about. I've been watching you. That temper? I can't wait to see you snap." He laughed before pushing himself from his resting position. "I'll see you tomorrow."

* * *

><p>Ron and Hermione were out the whole of the next day. Before the Order could put her parents in hiding, Hermione wanted to introduce them to Ron, officially as her boyfriend. Harry was still surprised by this, though he knew it had been a long time coming. He just kept forgetting they were together. They behaved nothing like Ron and Lavender or even Hermione and Krum had. Thinking of Ron and Lavender, Harry decided this was a good thing.<p>

This, of course, meant that only Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, John and Harry were in the house. Everyone else was away on Order business as they always seemed to be. If Harry was perfectly honest with himself then he would admit that he wished it was only just John. Ginny seemed intent on getting Harry to come to his senses and get back together with her. The more she tried, the more he felt himself becoming detached. He really cared for Ginny, but he had thought she understood when he explained their break-up to her. Not to mention he felt like he was being stalked. This feeling was only added to as Mrs. Weasley followed him around attempting to mother him. Harry suspected that she was suffering from empty nest syndrome.

"This is total crap," John announced, slamming a book against the wall.

"The book?"

"No, the book is decent," he admitted. "But I feel like I'm being locked up. I need a drink, something to do, hell, someone to do." He looked questioningly at Harry.

"I'm not sleeping with you," Harry commented, amused. Of course, he didn't take the other boy seriously. Harry was not an idiot; he knew by now that John wasn't straight. All the come ons, serious or not, were kind of a giveaway, even if Harry couldn't actually recall ever really meeting a gay guy though he remembered the scandal when the Peterson kid on Privet Drive came out. It never bothered him, but Harry still felt like the scrawny kid with geeky glasses. John couldn't be serious. He still seemed too "cool" for him, for lack of better words.

John smirked and Harry wondered how the hell he managed that look. It didn't make Harry swallow uncomfortably, just with a twinge of jealousy. Harry was fumbling and awkward. He also seemed to be blind because John had moved his chair closer to him without him noticing. "You sure?" he practically whispered into his ear. The hairs behind Harry's neck suddenly began to rise. This was definitely uncomfortable.

"Stop playing with me."

"Who said I was playing?"

Harry stood suddenly. Trying to think of something clever to say, Harry could only glare before taking off. He ignored the laughter that followed him.

* * *

><p>A few days later, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were in the library again researching Horcruxes. Hermione had charmed the books to look like textbooks. They had found the Black library fairly useful. It had enough Dark Arts books to provide some additional information on Horcruxes as well as provide some information on the four Founders.<p>

John entered the room and wandered over to the bookshelves, grabbing a book seemingly randomly. Harry noticed it was a book on wizarding history. Despite the surplus of space in the room, John sat casually in the chair next to Harry's, positioning himself so his leg touched Harry's. Harry tried not to squirm. He didn't get why John was doing this. Why would someone like John be interested in him?

All four sat quietly for a few minutes. Ron and Hermione took turns sending each other glances over the top of their books. John broke the silence. "You guys are kinda sickening. Why don't you get on with it and get a room?"

Ron turned the unfortunate shade of red that clashed with his hair. Hermione looked slightly offended. "I don't think that's any of your business. Besides, we both agreed to wait." Ron nodded a bit reluctantly and Harry wished he wasn't there. He loved both of them, and even if he felt a little left out, the last thing he wanted to know was more about that part of their relationship.

John's eyebrows rose. "Wait?" he asked as if the concept was ridiculous. "Dude, what's a relationship worth without someone getting off at least semi-regularly?" If possible, Ron turned a deeper shade of red. Hermione glared and returned to her book. John didn't let the subject drop. "What do you think, Harry?" The way John looked at Harry made him uncomfortable.

"Don't know," Harry responded neutrally.

"That's right, you better not know," Ron provided. "That's my sister you were dating." Harry offered a small smile.

"No worries Ron."

John looked at the two before returning to his train of thought. "I wasn't quite talking about the littlest Weasley," he suggested before grabbing his book and getting up. He maintained eye contact with Harry as he walked backwards towards the door. "Let me know if you wanna talk," he smiled, "more on the subject." He turned and made his exit.

Harry exchanged looks with his friends.

"Mental," Ron stated.

Hermione seemed to agree. "He seems to have quite an obsession with sex."

Harry shrugged. "He's bored. Being trapped here and all, it's stifling. I don't know how Sirius lasted so long." With that they all returned to their books.

* * *

><p>The week seemed to continue like that. Harry kept getting pissed at the fact that John was playing with him in such a way. John didn't even have the decency to do it only when they were alone, which they were quite often as Ron and Hermione spent more time together and Harry began to avoid Ginny. Harry found himself admiring John more and more. What did people call it? A man crush? When a guy wanted to be like another guy?<p>

Finally, Harry had had enough and turned to Hermione for advice. After he explained the situation, Hermione had a hard time holding back a smile.

"What?" he asked suspiciously. "Why are you smiling like that?"

"Harry, you're as oblivious around guys as you are around girls," she laughed. "He likes you or at least is attracted to you. The way he talks, it's probably just an attraction." Harry felt mildly offended. "Not that you don't have a nice personality. It's just…John's all about action and passion…like the fire he controls. That's why he's getting so restless. And, Harry, you're not a little boy anymore."

"What do you mean?" Hermione sighed. Harry hated that sigh. It meant he was being clueless.

"Well, as far as boys go, you're a good catch," she pointed out. "Sometimes I swear, you have the lowest self-esteem. Yes, you're no Viktor Krum when it comes to being built; you're probably built more like Cedric was. Not as pretty though. Or as tall."

Harry just stared at her. "I'm just average," he explained to her. "Always have been. Nothing special."

Hermione sighed again. "And there, that's your problem. Even in school or in magic. You don't feel as if you're anything special, so it takes a life or death situation for you to do something impressive. Like in third year, when you cast that Patronus."

"That's different," Harry protested. He was honestly, nothing special. And besides, when did this conversation turn into a counseling session?

Hermione watched him squirm for a moment. "Anyway, about John," she continued as if they hadn't gotten side-tracked. "Just make it clear that you're not interested. Unless you are." Then she too left.

"Forget Voldemort," Harry mumbled to himself. "This lot is going to be the death of me."

* * *

><p>That night, he had a dream that had repeated itself quite often since he got back to Headquarters. While embarrassing to think about, the erotic dream was always a welcome relief from the nightmares. This time, however, he could see who he was kissing and it was that image that made him bolt up in bed. John. "Fuck," he mumbled.<p>

He had never even considered liking boys. Hell he barely even liked girls, excluding Ginny and Cho. When he thought about it, wasn't it odd that Fleur never affected him like she did the other guys? Yeah, he always thought she was beautiful but it took a flock of full blooded Veela to make him do anything stupid, like jumping to his death to impress the Bulgarian Veelas.

Not that it mattered anyway. Too many important things were happening in the world for him to worry about what gender he liked the most. He found it odd that he wasn't going through the identity crisis usually associated with a question like this. It wasn't that Harry didn't care but other matters outweighed what could be an identity crisis. People dying or dreams about kissing an infuriating guy?

He skipped the scalding shower this time and made his way down to the living room. He lit a fire and sat there for a while, finding the flames somewhat relaxing. More so than sleep these days. Harry had no idea how long he had been sitting there when a crash came from the door.

Harry whipped out his wand and ran to investigate the noise.

"Moody!" he shouted as he saw the ex-Auror sprawled out in front of the closed front door. He was whiter than Aunt Petunia's sheets when she was on a cleaning spree. Harry quickly kneeled beside him, checking for injuries. Harry found a deep wound running from the bottom of his neck down to his stomach. "Help! Someone help!" He didn't know any spells that would help. "Episkey," he tried but was unsurprised when it didn't do anything.

Harry ripped off his own shirt and pressed it against Moody's wound to stop the blood. The man only stared dazedly back. "Potter?" he asked. "The prophecy Potter!"

Harry shook his head. "It's destroyed." He looked around for help only to see John leaning against the wall watching, only his tense body communicating that it was not business as usual. "Go get help!"

"No one's here," he shrugged. "Order business." But he straightened out, as if considering taking some sort of action. What, though, Harry could not be sure.

"Get Hermione then!" Harry quickly decided. If anyone left in this house could help, it was her. Harry cursed his ignorance of spells. He turned back to his patient as John quickly left the room. "Don't worry about it."

"No, you don't understand," Moody began again, shakily. "This one…so old. It's you Potter."

"It's me what?" There was no response and when Harry looked into Moody's one eye, he found it lifeless and wide open in death. It was too late. Harry closed Moody's eye. His crazy eye seemed frozen. He had never seen it so still.

"Harry!" Hermione's voice came from behind him. There was nothing she could do, Moody was dead, so Harry turned to block Moody's body from view and approached her. He turned her around; she didn't need to see this.

"Moody's dead," he told her.

"What?" she asked hands covering her mouth in horror. Harry's eyes met John's over her shoulders. Harry had nothing else to say.

"You heard him," John replied. "He's dead."

"Oh, my God," she turned away from him, teary eyes finding Ron who stood, confused, near the staircase.

"Moody's dead?" For his part, Ron took it in stride. He embraced his long time friend, now girlfriend, gazing over his shoulder at Harry who stared at his old teacher one moment longer.

"Ron, take her upstairs," Ron followed Harry's orders without hesitation. Once they were out of the way, Harry moved himself to the nearby couch, running his hands through his hair.

John disappeared but returned shortly, holding a spare cloak. He laid it over Moody's body carefully, sparing the man only a glance. "Another one bites the dust, huh?" John asked as he settled himself beside Harry.

"If you were anyone else, I'd deck you." Harry told him. John didn't care. Moody was dead and John didn't care.

"I get that a lot," John shrugged and eyed the body. "He was a decent guy. Totally nuts, but always entertaining. Didn't think you two were close though?"

Harry laughed darkly. "We weren't, but you wouldn't understand. You're not part of our world."

"Try me."

"You're familiar with Dumbledore, right? Only bloke Voldemort was ever afraid of. Now people keep dying and I can't stop it. They're dying because I'm not strong enough to stop him." Harry's eyes flickered towards Moody's covered body.

John flicked his lighter a bit. "People die. It's war, can't place it totally on one person's shoulder. You just need to relax. Find someone to fuck or something."

Harry let out a smothered laugh. "Is it always sex with you?" Nevertheless, he got closer to John who had sat on the couch next to him. John only shrugged, as if he thought he had just offered valid advice. Harry sighed, leaning against John's shoulder.

"If you were anyone else, I'd deck you right now," John told him. "I don't like to be touched. At least not like this."

"What makes me so special?" Harry asked. "I'm just Harry."

"Yeah, well just Harry," John replied. "I'm trying to seduce you."

Harry didn't think. He kissed him. John seemed surprised for a moment before kissing back. It wasn't forceful like Harry had expected. Just short, like a testing of waters. Harry pulled away. "I think I want you to."


	6. Consequences

_Mutant Son_

Summary: X-Men Movie Verse/HP Crossover. SLASH (non-graphic). Pyro/Harry. The last thing Snape told the Order before he betrayed them was that Voldemort was searching for his son. The Order somehow finds his son before Voldemort does and makes a trip to Xavier's.

Warnings: Slash (not graphic). Crossover.

Disclaimer: None of it is mine

**Chapter Six: Consequences**

Moody's death did not bring the same reaction as Dumbledore's, though that was quite expected. However, it did leave McGonagall alone in governing the Order. She was a wonderful witch and even leader, but when it came to war and Voldemort, she hadn't a clue. She felt as if she was fumbling in the dark, but she tried her best to hide it. They could not despair. Failure was not an option.

"Remus? Will you stay?" she asked as the meeting cleared out. Members left quickly these days, eager to spend the little time they could with their families. Remus approached her, looking tired and about ready to pass out. The full moon was approaching.

"Yes," he responded as politely as ever. He was always a polite boy. McGonagall had a brief flash back to a scrawny eleven year old boy apologizing from behind two shameless boys. She felt a pang in her chest. So much loss. McGonagall thanked whatever power existed for Tonks. She didn't know how Remus would have gotten through everything without her.

"I believe we have to move up Potter's induction," she got right to the point, peering at the man through her glasses. Remus had tried to distance himself but he clearly cared for the boy as much as Sirius had.

Remus pinched the bridge of his nose. "I know. I just wish we could postpone this until he was seventeen. Not that it would make much of a difference."

"The fact of the matter is, he is just as experienced as some of our members," she added. "He also spent the better part of last year with Dumbledore."

"He claims he didn't learn any spells."

"I believe that is something Albus could trust him to do on his own," she sighed, wondering how to phrase what would come next. "I think…almost know really…he was training Harry to replace him."

Remus considered this. "I figured Harry would be the one to finally face Voldemort."

"I don't mean in just that way. In a few months, I won't be leading this Order."

Her ex-student nodded. "Harry will."

"I wish it were anything but. He's so young. When you, Sirius, Lily, James, and Pettigrew had joined the Order, you were young too. But we could afford to protect you, if not just a little bit."

Remus smiled slightly. "That never went well with James and Sirius. Lily and James survived Voldemort three times before that night. They couldn't sit out. Neither can Harry. And he wouldn't want to." He turned to leave, knowing that the purpose of the conversation had been reached. However, he rethought it. Remus turned back around.

"Have you noticed how much time he's been spending with John?" he asked moving to take a seat. He needed someone to think this out with. No matter how much he loved Tonks, she did see Harry the hero more often than Harry the boy.

McGonagall looked up from where she had been reading a letter. "Yes, I had actually. But as Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger have been getting closer, I'm not surprised. Harry needs someone his own age to socialize with. Given the past nature of his and Miss Weasley's relationship, that leaves only Pyro."

Remus sighed, considering how to phrase this. "It's different though isn't it? They're always going off alone together, even when Ron and Hermione are around."

It didn't take much for McGonagall to catch on to what he was suggesting. Though many of her students would doubt she was up on the times, she knew, maybe not as well as Dumbledore, exactly what went on in the castle. Even the wizarding world's general nonacceptance of premarital sex or any relations really that could not produce an heir stopped a school of teenagers from getting up to all sorts of things, some more clandestine than others. "No, not Potter," she said, dismissing it immediately. "You've seen him and Ms. Weasley together. He was clearly infatuated with her."

Remus looked unconvinced. "It is possible that, as the Muggles say, he swings both ways. Even I have to exact self control when Fleur walks by, but Harry basically ignores her."

"Even if," she said slowly, wondering not for the first time about the muggle way of life, "he swung both ways as you so cleverly put it, St. John Allerdyce? He's a criminal in the making."

He smiled, "Well Harry's never exactly been the most rule-abiding of boys. I don't think John's…er… behavior would hold him back."

"The boy is just too much like his father, Allerdyce I mean," she contemplated. "Did you know I attended Hogwarts with Tom Riddle? My first year?" Remus shook his head. "Well, there was no doubt he was smart. Many admired him, even those in the other houses. He was good at hiding his intentions, but there was always this anger about him. His son has the same anger. The same sense of superiority. He's as in love with power as his father ever was."

"And Harry's tired of being the one with…issues," Remus argued. "I see it every day. He won't talk to Hermione or Ron about it because he doesn't want to bother them. What if, in his mind, Harry thinks John is the only one just as screwed up as him. I care for the boy deeply, but we can't say his upbringing or this stupid war hasn't affected him. I'm waiting for him to snap. He holds too much inside."

"Who's to say he hasn't snapped on occasion already? Do you know what Albus told me after Sirius's death? Potter destroyed his office, yelling and screaming. But he has no idea his power. It wasn't just him physically throwing things around, but his magic as well. Potter never even noticed."

"Should we be worried?"

McGonagall paused. "We won't know until the time comes. And if something is going on between him and Pyro…I think we should be even more worried."

* * *

><p>It definitely was nothing like kissing Cho or Ginny. He still claimed the only thing he could use to describe his kiss with Cho was wet. Ginny was sometimes forceful, like she thought he would change his mind, then she'd get shy like she just remembered he was the kid she had a crush on for years.<p>

John on the other hand…he was just good. With girls Harry always felt like he should be careful or something or not push too hard. Of course, Ginny seemed to want to go farther but he couldn't help but think of her as Ron's little sister. If that wasn't something to stop him in his tracks then what was?

John had this way of coaxing his tongue out. He even bit a little. Ginny tried that once and he nearly jumped out of his skin, but the way John did it just made him push against him harder. It's funny that he was thinking about differences in kissing style. He figured it should bother him at least a little bit that the biggest difference was gender. He was kissing a guy and he didn't care. Maybe it was because so much else was going on that it just didn't matter what reproductive organs a person had. When he thought about it, he did remember a little too much about Cedric's good looks, how fit he was, his hair. He just figured he was sizing up his competition. Maybe it was. Retrospection had a way of turning his mind against him. Of course, he couldn't think about that too long. He still had nightmares about Cedric's death.

At this point, Harry pulled away from John and turned his head. "Not having second thoughts are you?" John asked, running a hand through his hair to get it out of his face. "We haven't even gotten to anything you could regret."

"No it's not that," Harry responded. "Just thought of something." He watched John flick open his lighter and form a fireball in the cup of his hand. Clearly he wasn't interested. But Harry wasn't exactly here thinking that John would be the talking type.

"Doesn't that hurt?"

"Not at all," John responded, eyes locked on the flame before his eyes turned to Harry. "Here, let me do something. Hold out your hand."

Harry did so, though hesitantly. He didn't exactly fully trust John. John turned his hand over and the flame floated just below it, between Harry's hand and his. He moved the fire closer to Harry's hand before moving his away completely. Harry eyed the flame. It hurt a little but only slightly.

"Does it burn?" John asked curiously. "I've only ever done this with Bobby and his mutation kinda protects him."

Harry looked back at John. "A little, but I like it."

John grinned at him before putting out the fire and kissing him thoroughly, pushing him down onto the bed, running his hand under Harry's shirt. Harry squirmed. John pulled away, biting his own lip. "Too much?" he asked.

"Yeah, a bit." Harry felt bad about this but he didn't think he was ready for whatever John had in mind. John sighed but re-initiated the kiss, keeping his hands over Harry's shirt.


	7. Another Prophecy

_Mutant Son_

Summary: X-Men Movie Verse/HP Crossover. SLASH (non-graphic). Pyro/Harry. The last thing Snape told the Order before he betrayed them was that Voldemort was searching for his son. The Order somehow finds his son before Voldemort does and makes a trip to Xavier's.

Warnings: Slash (not graphic). Crossover.

Disclaimer: None of it is mine

**Chapter Seven: Another Prophecy**

Tonks poked her head into the room and Harry could only be relieved that Hermione and Ron had decided they had needed to catch up. Otherwise it would've been very likely that Tonks would've walked in on something very awkward.

"Harry? McGonagall wants to speak to you," she threw a quick smile. "She's in the drawing room." As she left, Hermione glanced at him cautiously.

"Well, you better get going then," Ron suggested.

Harry made his way to the drawing room, wondering what exactly they were going to talk about. Maybe it was about Moody's death. He still hadn't told them about what Moody had said but what was the big deal? Harry already knew the prophecy was about him. He'd known for over a year and a day did not pass that he didn't think about it. He was a dead man. How the hell was he supposed to defeat the most powerful wizard alive? Dumbledore was dead. That competition was over.

He entered the drawing room without knocking. McGonagall was waiting for him with Remus by her side. "You wanted to see me?" he avoided looking at Remus. He looked so tired."Yes, Potter, sit down."

"Am I going to want to or is this just pleasantries?" he asked, nevertheless taking a seat. McGonagall looked as if she was deciding between smiling and snapping at him.

"I believe after six years the time for pleasantries has long been passed," she glanced at him over her glasses. This was it, Harry knew it.

"You're finally going to let me fight," he guessed.

"Well the time to fight is up to You-Know-Who," she corrected. "It is at least time for you to join the Order." Harry nodded his head, waiting for her to continue.

Instead it was Remus. "We know Dumbledore gave you information—" Harry went to interrupt. "And we're not going to make you tell us anything. Just, if you need our help, come to us. We won't ask any questions."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Don't give us that look, Potter. We do have questions though, but these have to do with Moody's death," McGonagall looked at him pointedly.

"If it has to do with what he told me before he died, then I can't tell you," Harry responded. "It has to do with the information Dumbledore told me. Moody caught on."

"Are you sure?" Remus asked. "Did he say as much?"

"No, but—"

"Then there's a chance it didn't have anything to do with that?" Remus asked. He glanced over at McGonagall. "Should we?"

Harry rolled his eyes impatiently. "It's about the prophecy from the Department of Mysteries."

Remus and McGonagall exchanged knowing glances. "Listen, Potter, the last time anyone saw Moody before he died he was rushing out of Dumbledore's office. I had Remus interview the portraits, to see if we can figure out what it was all about." She looked over at Remus.

"Harry, former Headmaster Dippet told me he was telling Mad-Eye the story of the night you saved Ginny from the Chamber of Secrets. Mad-Eye took off soon after hearing about how you ended up with the sword of Gryffindor." Remus paused. "Do you have an idea why he would do that?"

Harry could only shake his head.

McGonagall nodded. "There's a chance that Moody was talking about another prophecy the night he died…one believed to be a myth," she eyed Harry carefully. "Are you absolutely sure he was talking about that specific prophecy?"

Harry thought a second. No, he couldn't be sure. Hadn't Moody denied it? Harry sighed, "He said something about it being so old."

Remus let out a curse and both Harry and McGonagall looked at him shocked. "Since when do you curse?" Harry asked.

"Since myth seems to be proven not mythical," he responded quickly. "Minerva? Should we…"

She didn't respond to her ex-student's question, but instead turned to Harry. "How much do you know about wizarding myths, Potter?"

Harry shrugged. "Nothing."

McGonagall nodded her head and peered over her glasses at Harry. "Hundreds of years ago, maybe a few generations after the founding of Hogwarts, the descendents of its founders were still rather active in the wizarding world. In the last generation only four, one from each family, still bore the name of their ancestors. Helena Hufflepuff, Rachel Ravenclaw, Sarian Slytherin, and Gordon Gryffindor aided in the establishing of the Ministry of Magic and settled themselves for a relaxed life teaching at Hogwarts. After a few years, the then Dark Lord overthrew the Ministry and declared himself king of the wizarding world. The four descendents went to war. In the final battle, Gryffindor was separated from his three friends and was found by the Dark Lord. They fought and Gryffindor managed to kill him with the sword but not without being mortally wounded himself. That was the last time the sword of Gryffindor was ever seen.

"Now, Hufflepuff was a minor seer and felt when her friend died. She promised a descendent of Gryffindor's would return long after the line seemed to end with the power to lead the magical world to its lightest days or leave it in darkness. Now Gordon Gryffindor had not left behind an heir, so the world hoped, for once, that one of their heroes had had a child out of wedlock…" McGonagall sighed as she trailed off.

Harry sat there for a moment, a bit lost. "Why do you think Moody was talking about this?" he asked.

"When Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald," his professor began, "many thought the myth was coming true then, but Dumbledore insisted it wasn't. When He Who Shall Not Be Named rose to power not long after, a decade or so, the wizarding world thought Dumbledore would lead them out of darkness again. The longer the war lasted, the more they lost hope and eventually decided the myth was just that, a myth. "

"And your point is…"

"Patience, Potter," she scolded. "A week before his death, Moody visited me in Dumble—my office. He saw Gryffindor's sword, and made mention of the myth. He said that since the sword was found too bad the heir was not found as well." She paused. "I think he believed Dumbledore found the sword."

Harry at last made the connection. He could solve mysteries for himself (admittedly more often with Hermione's help) but tended to be a bit thick when someone tried to explain something to him, especially if it involved him being more than just Harry. "But, I did."

"Exactly," Remus replied and Harry jumped a bit. He had forgotten Remus was there as he was focused solely on McGonagall.

"Ah, fuck no," Harry said standing up. "I'm not Gryffindor's heir and I'm not leading anyone." He paced for a couple of seconds, glaring at his father's old friend and his ex-Transfiguration teacher. "You guys are pulling at straws, trying to make a myth real. It's ridiculous."

"Harry," Remus said soothingly. "The Potters have been in Gryffindor since anyone can remember, all light wizards of exceptional power. Now we know Voldemort is the heir of Syltherin and you, against all odds, have faced him."

"That doesn't make the myth real," Harry snapped. "It's all about the prophecy and Voldemort's fucking stupidity."

"Potter, I'll handle it once, but watch your language," McGonagall's gaze was sharp. "Now sit down."

Harry shook his head, beginning to pace again. "I rather pace, thanks."

"Fine," she nodded, turning around to where she had a journal on the end table next to her. "But, a copy of the myth was found in Dumbledore's notes, right after the report on what happened in the Chamber of Secrets in your second year. Now you and I both know, Dumbledore was rarely wrong."

"Rarely," Harry pointed out. "Doesn't mean it didn't happen." Harry looked around him. "I have to go…I don't know I just have to go." At their looks, he ran a hand through his hair, sighing. "I just need to let it sink in, consider it. You know?"

McGonagall's stern look softened a bit as she nodded. "That sounds best." Harry absently muttered his good-byes and left the room, trudging up the stairs and into his room. He shut the door behind him, closing his eyes and placing his back against the door.

"What's up with you?" Harry opened his eyes to find John sprawled out on Harry's bed, absent mindedly playing with a cigarette.

"You have no idea." To think, not even an hour ago, he was worried about Tonks walking in on them making out. Right now that was the least of his worries. Harry walked over to John and leaned over, pressing a demanding kiss to his lips.

John grinned into the kiss. "I don't care," he pulled Harry down onto the bed, lips trailing down his neck. Harry moaned, bringing John's mouth back up to his.

"Good," Harry muttered as John slipped his hands under Harry's shirt.


	8. Getting Past His Walls

_Mutant Son_

Summary: X-Men Movie Verse/HP Crossover. SLASH (non-graphic). Pyro/Harry. The last thing Snape told the Order before he betrayed them was that Voldemort was searching for his son. The Order somehow finds his son before Voldemort does and makes a trip to Xavier's.

Warnings: Slash (not graphic). Crossover.

Disclaimer: None of it is mine

A.N. Again, I warn that this slash but certainly not graphic. I'm sorry if I disappoint some people but as I said, I want to focus on the relationship and I wouldn't be any good writing out sex scenes or anything similar anyway. And, now, finally, John's POV!

**Chapter Eight: Getting Past his Walls**

John was bored. Harry was huddled in the library with those two friends of his and John had no one else to talk to. He suddenly wished Bobby were there. No matter how much they argued or ended up fighting, Bobby was still his best friend. Fire and ice. That was probably why he had ended up in the kitchen. Whenever Bobby (or John) was upset, he'd drag John to the kitchen to eat ice cream. John hadn't liked ice cream but it grew on him, like Bobby.

John continued to flick his lighter open and closed. Did Bobby even miss him? He was probably too busy trying to figure out a way around Rogue's mutation. John flicked his lighter closed and banged his head lightly on the table, sighing rather dramatically.

"What's wrong with you?"

John looked up to see Harry leaning casually against the kitchen's door frame. "Were you watching me?" John grinned mischievously. He had long ago learned to turn questions around on people. The less they knew about you the better. Bobby knew almost everything about him. That made him a threat as much as it made him his best friend.

Harry shrugged and moved to the seat next to him. John took in his appearance. He looked tired. He had ever since he had that talk with Lupin and McGonagall. "You didn't answer my question."

John leaned back in his chair, sliding his lighter back into his pocket. He noticed how Harry's eyes seemed to follow the motion. "Just bored. I don't like being locked up."

"Tell me about it," Harry agreed. But he offered a small smile. "Then again, my situation is about to change. I turn seventeen in about two weeks."

"Didn't they already let you join their little club?" John asked. For the last week or so, Harry had been attending the Order meetings along with his friends who had already turned seventeen. That just left John and the youngest Weasley who had a nasty habit of glaring at him.

"Yeah, but I still can't use magic," Harry explained. "It wouldn't be a problem except if I were to be attacked. Which is a distinct possibility if I was allowed to leave the house."

John raised an eyebrow. "Do you always do what you're told?"

Harry laughed. "You have no idea. Besides the rules aren't the problem. I already have a record of underage magic. Last time the Ministry practically put me on trial. There are three sides to this war."

"There always is. It's the same with mutants and humans," John pointed out. "The government is always on its own side."

"Unfortunately," Harry muttered. "God, I can't wait to fight. Three more Muggles were murdered in their homes last night. The longer I wait, the more people die."

Harry ran his hand through his hair. He didn't seem to realize how often he did this. Usually when he was nervous or stressed. John remembered the first time Harry had initiated a kiss after the night Moody died. He had stood awkwardly for a few moments, running his hand through his hair before practically launching himself at John. Harry didn't do things half-way, John realized. So while he never saw Harry use magic, he thought it was quite possible that he would win this war. Several years down the road.

"I can't believe we just had a conversation," Harry laughed.

John shrugged. "I'm not really into making out in kitchens." Harry laughed again. John thought it was a good laugh, one he didn't hear enough. Harry smiled at him and John's heart seemed to jump a beat. Harry had no idea just how attractive he was. John rethought a previous conclusion; Harry did do things half way. One minute the guy was completely confident, the next he was making a self depreciating comment. John had seen plenty of abuse cases when he was on the streets. He wondered in what way Harry was abused. Did his uncle beat him as badly as John's father (step-father he corrected) had beaten him? Or was it psychological? John stopped as he realized what he was thinking about. He had told Harry he didn't care. And he hadn't. But now he was starting to.

It was at that moment that Harry suddenly let out a pained shout. Falling out of his chair, he clutched at his scar. He convulsed violently on the ground. "Somebody help!" John shouted as he flung himself to a kneeling position beside Harry who seemed to be desperately attempting to keep his screams at bay. John grabbed onto him, trying to stop him from convulsing. He felt panicked and that panicked him even more. He wasn't supposed to care. Bobby had already passed through his walls. Not this boy too.

Lupin came flying into the room, stopping suddenly when he saw Harry on the ground. He was quickly followed by Hermione and Ron who pushed John out of the way and tried to hold Harry down. From his position on the ground where Ron had pushed him, John glared at Lupin who did nothing. "What the fuck is wrong with him? Do something!" he shouted.

Hermione sent him a brief look. "There's nothing we can do. He's getting a vision."

John stood. "What is he fucking psychic too?"

Lupin looked torn, as if he wanted to do something but didn't know what. "No, it's his connection to Voldemort," he told John quietly. Suddenly, Harry stopped convulsing. He slowly opened his eyes taking deep breaths. Hermione and Ron helped him up and brought him to a chair.

"Harry, what happened?" Ron asked worriedly.

"I thought you weren't getting visions anymore," Hermione said, slightly accusatory.

But Harry ignored both of them. "John," he blurted out, rubbing his scar. Harry's eyes found his. "Voldemort tracked down your home in Sydney. Your step-father is dead."

John looked down, considering his words. "Good riddance. He was a bastard anyway," he said lightly.

Hermione's eyebrows seemed to disappear into her bushy hair. "How can you say that? No one deserves to die like that."

John glared at her. "Don't judge me," he practically growled. "I've hated that man my entire life. How do you know how he died anyway?"

"If it hurt Harry that much," Lupin said gently. "It probably wasn't an easy death."

"I'm sorry for Harry then," John said, realizing he meant it. "But some people deserve to die. They deserve to burn."

All of them, sans Harry, looked at him in shock. Ron shook his head, eyes narrowing in his direction. "You really are his son," he said, hatred clear in his voice.

"Ron," Hermione warned.

"No," Ron spared her a glance. "I've stayed mostly quiet but that's it. He's dangerous. He's You-Know-Who's son. He's admitted to hating 'humans' and thinks they deserve to burn. Why are we protecting him?"

"Ron," this time it was Harry. He stood, wincing slightly. "Leave him alone."

Ron looked shocked, as if he expected Harry to agree with him. "But, he's—"

Harry cut him off. "He's Voldemort's son. Not Voldemort. Sometimes hate is justified. He's right, some people deserve to burn." When Lupin went to cut him off Harry held up his hand to stop him. "No, let me finish. Some people deserve to burn, but what makes us different from them is that we don't give them what they deserve. We make the decision to be a better person and show them mercy as long as we can. John hasn't fried anyone, despite feeling that they should burn. Dumbledore said it's our choices that make us who we are. John's still here despite hating it. That says something."

John tore his eyes from Harry, who seemed to hold a secret authority. You had to listen to him. A regular Scott Summers. The only difference was that Harry was reluctant to use that authority. Some people were born to lead though. Ron looked chastised. Hermione and Lupin looked proud. John had heard Harry was the Chosen One. He assumed that had meant Harry would be the one killing his father. But maybe Harry was chosen for more than killing. For leading.

Later, when everyone had gone their separate ways, John found Harry in his bedroom. He entered without knocking. Harry looked towards the door from his position in front of the window. John imagined that he had been looking out onto the street. Closing the door behind him, John closed the distance between them and kissed him deeply. He put all his emerging feelings into it. Harry returned the kiss eagerly, their mouths competing to lead the kiss. John had more experience though, and it was him who was in control, refusing to break the kiss.

When they separated for air, Harry grinned. "Wow," he breathed.

"Yeah, 'wow,'" John moved back from where he had pushed Harry against the window. "You have no idea how attractive you are when you take charge."

Harry kissed him, trying to reverse their positions, but John didn't let him. "But not enough to let me take control," Harry commented.

"Never in the bedroom," John smirked. "Aren't you tired of being in control? I know you have a temper but you control it." John kissed him. "Your friends always look at you for guidance. Let me take control." And Harry did as John unbuttoned Harry's jeans and moved his mouth downwards, smirking the moment Harry seemed to realize his intention.

* * *

><p>They lay next to each other after they finished. John had never shared a bed with someone before. Not after the fact. He expected this was Harry's first blow job. He smirked. Harry hadn't known what to do afterwards and John told him not to worry. He'd handle it later.<p>

Harry glanced at him. "You look…well like the cat that swallowed the canary."

John raised an eyebrow. "Or something else." Harry grinned at the innuendo. It seemed to break the ice, so to speak. Harry scooted closer to him and turned on his side facing him.

"Before we…" he trailed off. "Umm…"

"Are you always this inarticulate after someone gets you off?" John teased.

Harry blushed. "Er, I wouldn't know," he mumbled.

John propped himself up on an elbow, shocked. "Are you telling me you're…a virgin? You've never even been with a girl?"

Harry blushed again. "I never really had the time," he defended himself. "Was a little busy trying to not get killed."

John rolled his eyes. "You only need an hour of spare time. Less actually. You dated the little Weasley for a while, didn't you?"

"Do you see how many brothers she has?" Harry asked incredulously. "They would've killed me. I barely got to spend time with her anyway with all that was going on."

John decided to let it go and he settled back into the bed. "So what were you unsuccessfully trying to say before?"

Harry looked down at the pillow for a moment. "Well, before you…well did what you did—"

"Sucked you off?" John suggested helpfully. He smiled when he earned a blush from Harry.

"Yeah, oral sex, whatever. What you were saying. You sounded like you might care," Harry looked up at that, hesitantly searching John's eyes. John returned to his thoughts from earlier. He wondered whether Harry realized that when it came to being 'Harry Potter' he reeked of confidence but as soon as he had to be 'just Harry' he barely had any. John carefully considered his words.

"Do you want me to care? Voldemort's son?" he asked slowly.

"You're unlike anyone I've ever met," Harry responded.

"That's not an answer," John pointed out. Harry only shrugged. Clearly he felt he took enough initiative bringing up the topic. "Listen, I don't do relationships. Ever."

Harry laughed, clearly not amused. "I'm not asking for one," he said. "I just don't want to be sleeping with someone who doesn't give a damn about me. I didn't think I would mind, before when it was just kissing. Now…" he trailed off, shrugging again.

"I do care," John said slowly. "Probably as much as I can. I'm fucked up."

Harry laughed for real this time. "I've noticed. But I am too, in case _you_ haven't noticed."

"Oh, I've noticed," John rolled his eyes. "You have two personalities, I hope you know that." Harry nodded. They were silent for a little while. They just lay there, not touching.

"After you turn seventeen," John started. "I want to fight. I'm tired of hiding."

Harry looked at him carefully. "I thought you didn't care about wizards or Muggles or humans. About any of it. Besides, you don't seem to like anyone in the Order." Harry was looking at him so carefully that his emerald eyes were more vibrant than ever. John reached out to run his hands along a hickey he had left on Harry's collarbone.

"My father wants to kill me. He's already tried to kill you. I figure if I want to eventually have sex with you, you can't be dead. I'm just not into that kind of thing," John grinned and Harry laughed. John tried not to think about how far through his walls he had let this boy in a few short weeks.


	9. Loyalty

_Mutant Son_

Summary: X-Men Movie Verse/HP Crossover. SLASH (non-graphic). Pyro/Harry. The last thing Snape told the Order before he betrayed them was that Voldemort was searching for his son. The Order somehow finds his son before Voldemort does and makes a trip to Xavier's.

Warnings: Slash (not graphic). Crossover.

**Chapter Nine: Loyalty**

"So how long do you think you can keep this up?" Hermione asked. Harry tore his eyes away from where he had been trying (and failing horribly) to surreptitiously watch John before the Order meeting started. He wondered if eyes could get whiplash.

"Keep what up?" Harry asked evenly. Maybe she hadn't seen him watching John, though he had a feeling he was being obvious.

Hermione rolled her eyes in that way she did when she knew something he or Ron didn't, which happened a fair deal of the time. "You and Ginny," she said as if it was obvious. "Do you really think not dating her is going to protect her? You-Know-Who already knows how close you are to the Weasleys so she's already in danger. Besides, you've been bordering on distracted or moody all summer."

"Gee, I wonder why?" Harry supplied, clearly directing his comment to her last statement. Ron snorted and Hermione glared over at him. Harry smiled slightly. He had been afraid when the two had first started dating that it would change the group dynamics, but things had remained mostly the same. These were his best friends; he couldn't stand lying to them. Not that he had yet. He just omitted parts of the truth a lot. They still didn't know about the other prophecy and had absolutely no idea what was going on with him and John, a fact that he was mostly glad about. Mostly.

But it was starting to feel as if he was leaving a bigger and bigger part of his life a secret from them. He wasn't one to talk about his feelings but he wished there was someone that could explain how St. John Allerdyce was quickly becoming some sort of addiction. And it wasn't just attraction anymore. He really liked him, which was weird because John could be downright mean sometimes. But Harry liked the brutal honesty, the sarcasm, the way he played with his lighter, and most importantly all the things in John that boiled right under the surface. John had lived a hard life and he tended to close himself off. But he did feel. He did care. He claimed to hate humans, but Harry noticed the way John's face stiffened or the way his eyes seemed to dull a bit every time a Muggle child was caught in the Death Eater crossfire.

John was far from perfect, but so was Harry. The passion and heat that seemed to surround John had Harry hooked. And he didn't care how cliché that sounded even in his own head. He could think of no other way to describe it. He was addicted and though that may not be healthy, John was one of the only things that made him feel anything beyond sad these days.

"Harry, mate, you in there?" Ron interrupted his train of thought.

"Sorry, did you say something?" Harry asked a bit sheepishly. It was true. He was distracted.

"_I_ said," Hermione hid a smile. "That you're avoiding the subject. Why don't you just apologize to Ginny?" She looked at him sadly. "I know we can't take away most of your burdens but we still want you to be happy."

Harry looked his lips. He really needed someone to talk to. Maybe they wouldn't care. "I…" No, he couldn't tell them the truth. At least not the whole truth. "I'm not interested in Ginny. At least not like that, anymore."

Ron looked torn between disappointment and glee. When Harry and Ginny had been dating, Harry often saw similar mixed emotions. Ron didn't know whether to be happy his best friend and little sister were dating or to be grossed out. It looked like he still didn't know.

"Really?" Hermione asked in disbelief. She studied him for a second, before looking confused. "Then why do you keep looking over at her?"

"I do?" Harry asked, searching the room for her. He spotted her then quickly realized Hermione's mistake. While Ginny was sitting on the couch reading, John was leaning on the wall a bit behind her. Harry put on a sheepish grin. "I think that may just be a coincidence."

He risked one more quick look at John before returning all his attention to his best friends. Hermione narrowed her eyes in suspicion. She knew something was up but she wasn't sure exactly what. Part of him wished she would put the pieces together. She had no time to, however, because at that moment Professor McGonagall strolled in.

"Miss Weasley and Mr. Allerdyce if you would please," McGonagall gestured towards the door. Ginny frowned but nevertheless closed her book and moved to the exit. When she noticed that John had not moved from his position, she paused. McGonagall looked to John too.

"Mr. Allerdyce?" she asked.

He met her eyes evenly. "I'd like to stay," he said rather blandly, like in reality he couldn't care less. But Harry recognized that determined look in his eyes.

"I apologize, Mr. Allerdyce, but we do not know whether we can trust you enough for your involvement in the Order," McGonagall replied just as evenly. "You have made no secret of your feelings for 'humans,' as you call the Muggles."

Harry swallowed. "You can trust him," he said. While nervous, he attempted to sound certain and authoritative.

McGonagall's eyebrows rose, as if begging him to continue. "I'd trust John with my life. He wouldn't betray us," he continued. Harry tried to avoid looking at John as he said this but from what he could see, John stared at him intently, perhaps a little surprised. From next to him, Hermione glanced between him and John before furrowing her eyebrows in thought.

McGonagall turned to look at John, before looking at the rest of the Order. "I believe we should discuss this as a group and vote on the matter," she suggested, though in her stern voice it came mostly as an order. "Mr. Allerdyce, if you will wait just outside, we will be with you shortly."

John nodded and turned to leave. Before shutting the door behind him, he sent one more look at Harry, who tactlessly avoided his eye. Harry heard the door shut and all else was silent. It was the kind of silence that spoke of words bubbling at the surface. Most eyes were turned to Harry while others turned to McGonagall, waiting for her to start the meeting. Harry avoided Hermione's gaze, which was the most intense of all. In doing so, he found Lupin's eyes. Harry noticed that Lupin looked a little better since the full moon passed. Those eyes too were evaluating him in their own calm manner. Harry hated being stared at.

"Well, Potter," McGonagall began. "As honest as your evaluation of Pyro seems to be, I'm afraid we need a bit more to go on."

Lupin cleared his throat. "While I respect your opinion, Harry, Dumbledore's evaluation of Snape's trustworthiness was worded quite similarly. And we don't need to be reminded how that ended."

All eyes were turned to Harry and he desperately wanted to avoid their gazes. This was personal. But then again it wasn't. They were looking to him now. He wasn't a child anymore. He was ready for this. He met a few of their eyes before settling on McGonagall. "I know John better than all of you. You all see him as Voldemort's son or the mutant or the guy with a bad attitude. But John is a lot of talk. He doesn't hate humans for their existence but for what they have done to him and mutants like him. Children are innocent in that. Voldemort attacks perfectly innocent people, children included, without care of their actions. John doesn't agree with that, he despises that." A few people seemed to be considering this. Lupin nodded as if he also held a similar evaluation. Others like Shackelbolt and a few of the Weasleys looked doubtful. Harry was somewhat surprised to see Mrs. Weasley nodding with Lupin. She seemed to have fully accepted John.

Harry cleared his throat to continue. "If that's not enough then look at it this way. John is very focused on his own survival. A very Slytherin trait, I know. Voldermort wants to kill him, or use him. John won't let someone else protect him. He's used to surviving based on his own merit."

"What if You-Know-Who _does_ want to use him?" Shackelbolt cut in. "What if he were to offer John a powerful position in his ranks? The boy seems hooked on his own power."

Harry shook his head. "It's too late for that. John holds grudges. Once bitten, forever shy. I know the feeling. He doesn't forgive. You only get one chance and, in his mind, his father blew it." Most people continued to look doubtful. "If you don't believe me, why don't we bring him in here? You can interview and judge for yourselves whether he is trustworthy. He can be useful. Most of the Death Eaters would not know how to fight a mutant."

Lupin nodded. "I believe that would be the best course of action," he glanced at Harry for a moment. "While Harry's testimony seems valid, perhaps we should judge for ourselves. Can everyone agree to that?" Most nodded.

"Very well," McGonagall agreed. "Mr. Diggle, if you will please get our guest." Dedalus got up and rushed to the door in that excited manner of his. Harry got a visual of his eager bowing the first time Harry had seen him, all those years ago. A moment later he returned with John in tow. John seemed to have gained back his stoic façade.

"Am I in?" John asked, sitting in an empty seat McGonagall conjured for him.

"Not yet," McGonagall replied. "We are going to ask you a few questions before voting on the matter." John nodded as if it was what he was expecting. "Mr. Allerdyce are—"

"If I could interrupt you, Minerva," Shackelbolt shot in. "Perhaps we should try Veriteserum? I have some with me from the last interrogation I held. If Pyro doesn't mind…" Shackelbolt trailed off, gesturing in the general direction of John. It seemed as if those used to calling people by their last name tended to use 'Pyro' when talking to or about John instead of 'Allerdyce'. Harry supposed that made sense seeing as John wasn't really an Allerdyce. Harry followed Shackelbolt's motion to study John. He expected John to outright refuse, but he looked like he was considering it.

"You'll only ask me relevant questions?" John asked. "You can resist your all's ever present curiosity over me?" He looked sarcastically doubtful.

"You can trust us," McGonagall replied slowly.

"I don't think I can."

"Then why do you want to join us?" Lupin asked curiously, as if he too was studying him. Harry knew that if anyone would accept John, it would be Lupin. But Lupin was also careful, weighing his options.

"It's not like I can trust anyone on the other side either," John shrugged. "I'm not one to sit idly on the sidelines. The ones on the sidelines rarely ever remain there, for better or worse."

"I'm taking then that you are refusing Veriteserum?" Shackelbolt asked in a tone that on anyone else would seem impatient. But the Auror always seemed calm, even when annoyed.

John's hand slowly traveled to his pocket where Harry knew his lighter to be, but he didn't pull it out. He only seemed to rub his thumb along it. John glanced at Harry for a moment before speaking. "You won't let Harry question me I'm guessing?"

McGonagall shook her head. "He already trusts you. We need someone more suspicious of you." Harry resisted smiling. His former Transfiguration professor rarely ever minced words.

John nodded. "Then can he monitor what you ask me?" he asked. "Is that possible? Stop me from answering unnecessary questions?"

Remus smiled in John's direction. "I thought you mistrusted everyone here. Putting that kind of power in Harry's hands suggests a certain degree of trust."

John didn't answer.

McGonagall surveyed the Order. "Does anyone wish to overrule this suggestion?" she asked, gazing strictly at each member over the rim of her glasses. When no one raised any objections she nodded. It seemed to Harry that she was both acknowledging their decision on the Veriteserum matter but also something else. When her eyes traveled briefly over his, he had a feeling he knew what it was. Remus was right. John was showing a good degree of trust in him, but so was the Order.

"Very well then," McGonagall replied. "Kingsely, the potion please?" And without much pomp and circumstance, it began.

* * *

><p>Harry nervously sat on his bed. He felt he did his best to monitor what John replied to. He even covered his mouth twice so as to keep him from answering overly personal questions. Did the Order really need to know how John managed to survive as a runaway in New York City? He wished he could've stopped John from answering more times, but some things were important for the Order to know. Like had he ever killed anyone? Yes. Why? Self protection. Harry wanted to know about what John went through. He wanted to help if he could. And why? Because of John's last answer.<p>

McGonagall had asked: "Will you be loyal to the Order?"

John had answered: "No. I'll be loyal to Harry Potter."


	10. The Most Dangerous Game

_Mutant Son_

Summary: X-Men Movie Verse/HP Crossover. SLASH (non-graphic). Pyro/Harry. The last thing Snape told the Order before he betrayed them was that Voldemort was searching for his son. The Order somehow finds his son before Voldemort does and makes a trip to Xavier's.

Warnings: Slash (not graphic). Crossover.

**Chapter Ten: The Most Dangerous Game**

John was avoiding Harry. That much was clear. In the last twenty-four hours, Harry had seen him twice. Both times John quickly turned and left the room. Hermione had that look on her face like she knew exactly what was going on. So Harry was avoiding her. And John was avoiding him. Fuck.

He was looking for John when he ran into Hermione. He figured that was karma for something he had done. But then again he figured karma owed him one not the other way around. Harry considered turning around for a moment but the glare his friend sent him kept him in his place. She grabbed his arm and dragged him to the nearest closed door. She threw him into the room (which turned out to luckily be the empty living room), shut the door behind him, and turned to face him, arms crossed over her chest.

"So when were you going to tell me?" she asked, her voice softer than her stern demeanor.

"Tell you what?" he tried to sound innocent, but knew it was fruitless.

Hermione sighed and gestured for him to sit on the small couch. She followed and joined him. There were a few moments of awkward silence during which Harry looked at his feet. Finally, she began. "What exactly is going on between you and John?"

"What do you think is going on?" Harry returned. John had this habit of turning questions around on people. Harry clearly wasn't as skilled but he really didn't want to tell Hermione too much. But then again, Hermione didn't look very angry at the moment. Just curious. Of all people, Hermione would accept him for anything.

"Honestly, Harry?" she looked very compassionate at the moment. "I don't know. I just know something is going on between the two of you. And seeing as he spends a lot of time blatantly flirting with you and you have an odd tendency to stare at him, I'm guessing it's something romantic."

Harry smirked for a second. "I thought you thought I was staring at Ginny?"

"You corrected me of that illusion yourself," Hermione responded in her no nonsense tone. "Harry, no more games. Let me in." She looked so sincere at that moment that he stopped caring what she would think. He really needed someone to talk to, especially now that John was avoiding him.

"I don't know how much of it is romantic," he admitted, refusing to meet her eyes. "At least on his part." Then he took a deep breath and got it out before he could rethink it. "But we're sleeping together, well almost. Or well, not sleeping, but you get the gist?"

Harry looked up and Hermione was looking at him with so much feeling he couldn't tear his eyes away again. "Oh, Harry," she said quietly. "Tell me everything."

So he did. He told her how it began. How at first it was just a physical thing. Though he spared her the details, he told her that sometime after he joined the Order he started feeling more. John had too. Harry had thought that at best John considered him a friend. Perhaps friends with benefits. Then last night had happened. John had said he was loyal to Harry Potter. What was he supposed to think now?

Hermione pulled him into a crushing hug once he was done. "Oh, Harry," she said again.

"You keep saying that," Harry said jokingly, sending a small grin. "You have anything else to say? Because I could really use your brains. God, I thought my life was crazy enough with Voldemort, now John…." He trailed off, running a hand through his hair. "I've never felt this way before. Ginny and Cho…they didn't even come close."

Hermione smiled softly. It wasn't a typically happy smile, but Harry couldn't read anything else from it. "Harry, I don't know what you want me to say. I can tell you everything is going to be alright, but I don't know that. I don't know if this will be a comfort to you or what, but I do think John feels strongly for you, or is at least getting there. But John isn't like most people I've ever met. I don't know if feeling for you is enough."

She sighed and took Harry's hand. He wanted to pull away. Years of barely having physical contact screamed at him to do so. But he didn't want to hurt Hermione's feelings. "I'm not going to lie to you. I don't think this is healthy. The way you described this—well this relationship—as an addiction. Plus, neither of you can hide from who you are. As much as you hate it, you are Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. And he is You-Know-Who's son. Not to mention that you are both guys. This is war. It complicates everything."

Harry nodded. She hadn't said anything he hadn't already thought. "Have you…have you spoken to Ron?" he asked hesitantly.

This time her smile was amused. "He hasn't a clue. But depending on how this works out, you will have to tell him."

"I know," he sighed. "I'm not looking forward to that. Do you think anyone else knows?"

"I had my suspicions."

Harry and Hermione whirled towards the door and Harry found his wand in his hand. But it was only Remus. Damn, lock the door he scolded himself. He had just assumed that Hermione had. Remus eyed Harry's wand in amusement before taking a seat on the armchair across from the couch Hermione and Harry were on. Harry tucked his wand away.

"I didn't hear you come in," Harry said needlessly.

Remus gave him a small smile. "There are others who have their suspicions," he continued. "McGonagall and Tonks. Ginny is at least suspicious of John. Other than that I think your secret is safe."

"Do you think secrecy is best?" Hermione asked surprised.

Remus eyed her carefully. "Usually, no. But Harry is in a unique position. You said it yourself; he can't separate himself from Harry Potter. And people are looking towards Harry Potter, now."

Harry nodded. "And at the end of the day, all people will see is two guys. And John is still Voldemort's son," he said, standing and striding to the fireplace. He put his hand on the mantle, his posture stiff and angry. He whirled to face Hermione and Remus. "But why is that so important? It's just blood. John is not Voldemort."

Remus shook his head. "Don't be blind, Harry. He is his father's son and he has a choice to make."

Harry glared at him. "He's already made that choice. He said he's loyal to me, whatever that means."

"We'll see Harry, we'll see," Remus said softly. "Don't get me wrong. I like the boy, but he's had a hard life and he hasn't come out of it as whole as you have."

Harry shook his head angrily. "Obviously you don't know me as well as you think," he bit out. He gestured to himself. "You call this whole? Maybe I just cover up the missing pieces for all your sakes. Maybe I can't sleep at night, can't stop the nightmares. And it's about to get worse. I know that. The war hasn't even hit full force yet. One way or another, I'm not coming out of this whole."

"Harry—" Hermione started.

"No, Hermione, don't. I have to go," and he stormed out of the room. He had some thinking to do. And a mutant to speak to.

* * *

><p>John was lying on his bed, shaping a ball of fire into different objects in his room, when his door swung open. Well, Harry finally cornered him. And he looked angry.<p>

"I didn't expect you to be someone that runs and hides," Harry glared.

John shrugged, sitting up so that he wasn't lying flat. Not a safe position. "I'm a runaway," he responded nonchalantly. "Run and hide is part of the definition."

"Cute," Harry seemed to be losing some of his anger, becoming more nervous. He pretended to study John's room. "Still, why?"

John rolled his eyes, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "That's a fucking stupid question, isn't it?" he asked clearly annoyed. "I'm loyal to only me and here I am fucking declaring my loyalty to some guy—" he gestured haphazardly towards Harry.

"Are you kidding me?" Harry all but snapped. "Some guy? Gee, how you flatter me." They stood there glaring at each other for a couple of seconds before John jumped up and roughly slammed Harry into the wall. Harry didn't flinch and refused to tear his glare away from John's.

"Am I someone you want to swear loyalty to you?" John asked softly. "Voldemort's son? Someone who gets off on his own powers? I'm dangerous and I don't think you get that."

Harry's glare softened. "You're not dangerous to me," he said. "Listen, I'm not one to talk about feelings and I know you're not either." Harry pushed John away from him slightly. "But this is more than just fooling around now, whether I want it to be or not."

John nodded, pushing away from him. "God, Bobby would be laughing at me if he saw me now," he laughed slightly.

"Why do you always talk about Bobby?" Harry asked, moving past John to sit on his bed.

"Are we talking? I thought we didn't do that," John said, throwing himself onto his bed beside Harry. Harry only shrugged. "Bobby's a friend. Best friend I guess. He got me to give people a chance. I hated him but he wouldn't give up until I was his friend. You'd like him. He's all good intentions and big on honor and all that crap."

"All that crap," Harry repeated settling in beside him. "Have you told him about me?"

John shook his. "You guys don't have a phone and I haven't been able to get out to send a letter."

"You can borrow my owl. You should be able to talk to him," Harry responded. He couldn't imagine not talking to either Ron or Hermione. That summer before second year had been torture. Harry got quiet for a moment before leaning in to kiss John softly, unchartered territory. John responded and for once let him drive the kiss. However, it didn't stay soft for long and soon it was as passionate as ever. John straddled Harry removing his own shirt before moving for Harry's. Harry sought any contact he could get as the clothes continued coming off. They were down to their boxers and as things got more intense, Harry knew they would both be getting off very soon.

When they were both coming down, sweaty and out of breath, John moved his body so it was wedged slightly beneath his and rested his head on Harry's chest.

"Hermione and Remus know about this."

"You mean us?" John asked. Harry nodded. "I figured they'd figure it out. It's getting late."

Harry groaned and went to get dressed but John pulled him back down. "You can stay," John suggested and Harry only nodded again.

* * *

><p>There was a loud knocking on John's door before it quickly swung open. John jumped up, wielding his lighter at the same time that Harry awoke, looking for his wand before realizing it was in his jeans which were lying on the floor. McGonagall stood in the doorway for a moment, clearly surprised to find them together, mostly undressed, before quickly shaking it off.<p>

"Pyro, you're needed. The Death Eaters have set fire to Diagon Alley," she said quickly. "Potter, you come too."

They both quickly pulled their clothes on. As they followed closely behind McGonagall, they spotted a few more members of the Order waiting in the hallway. "Others will meet us there," McGonagall announced. "The plan is to either distract or take out the Death Eaters while Pyro handles the fires. Kingsely will lead the Aurors, The rest of you," McGonagall glanced at a few of the assembled Weasleys and other Order members that were assembled, "follow Remus's lead."

John had never been in a battle. Sure he had seen them in movies. What guy his age hadn't? He figured he knew a little bit more of battle than most because he had survived the streets and he went to a school where the teachers were practically superheroes and faced battles on a regular basis. Plus, you know, danger room sessions. But this…this was different.

When Harry had basically teleported him into what he supposed was a wizard's strip mall, he could notice only one thing. The fire. There was so much of it and it called out to him, asking him to shape it, telling him to destroy. John thought he heard someone gasp "Fiendfyre."

He needed to take a few breaths to gain back his mind because his blood was boiling, wreaking havoc to his senses. The next thing he became aware of was the screaming and the shouts. He spotted a woman cowering in an alleyway. The next second he was watching two people engage in a battle of what appeared to be dangerous lighting. Then there were more people fighting. And more people screaming. All this took a few seconds to see. There was just so much going on. Harry squeezed his shoulder briefly then took off running, shouting instructions at the people that appeared with them.

Harry had a job to do. So did he.

John turned again to the fire and raised a hand, trying to pull it down. Contain, then put out. He could do this. The problem was that this fire was like no other he ever felt. It was dangerous; it was completely out of control and bent on spreading. But John controlled fire and he took a breath. He had a job to do. People to save. Damn, he was turning into a White Hat.

* * *

><p>Harry didn't think. He just did. It had kept him alive this long. He had not only survived Voldemort a few times this way, he had also survived the Dursleys. He tended to act on instinct but this was different. People were depending on him. Yet it wasn't different. You threw him in a dangerous situation and he survived. You threw him in a dangerous situation with other people behind him, he gave orders. This was his war. He wouldn't let others die because he wasn't strong enough. They were his responsibility.<p>

"Spread out," Remus shouted over the noise. "Create a perimeter around Diagon Alley. We want the Death Eaters on the inside, closer to the fire."

Then they were off and he couldn't think of them because he was soon fighting a faceless Death Eater. He ducked a slash of yellow light and rolled as he saw the Death Eater take aim again. Before the robed figure could recover, Harry shouted, "Expelliarmus!" The wand was out of the Death Eater's hand. "Stupefy!"

Harry stepped over his fallen opponent and moved on to the next.

* * *

><p>It was all John could do to keep the fire from spreading. But he had. The fire was contained but it didn't want to die. John had always found that putting out fires was harder than controlling them but this…this was ridiculous. Then John realized that he had a weapon. A seemingly endless supply of fire. What if he could help the Order?<p>

He took a moment to glance at those around him. He thought he saw someone he recognized lying on the floor but it was too chaotic to tell. Harry seemed to be successfully fighting off one of the robed figures—Death Eaters, he remembered—but behind him a fight was finishing and another Death Eater turned to face Harry. John didn't even have to think about it. He pulled from the fire he controlled and directed it at the figure threatening Harry. As the fire hit the figure, burning it so quickly the screams only lasted for seconds, John turned to attack others.

It may have made it easier for the Death Eaters to organize when they could automatically recognize those among their ranks, but it also made it easier for the enemy. John attacked masked figure after masked figure, incapacitating some, surprising others. The fighting stopped and chaos seemed to reign. The Death Eaters began to apparate away and the Order found shelter against the flames. But John smiled. Didn't they know he wasn't aiming for them anyway? John was in his element.

* * *

><p>For a moment Harry thought John had lost control of the fire. The he realized two things. One: only Death Eaters were going down. Two: John was smiling. Harry realized this battle just got a whole lot easier. That was until he noticed the brave (or stupid) Death Eater sneaking up behind John. Harry stunned the approaching figure. John was so into the fire that he never even noticed.<p>

"What do we do?" a voice from his left asked. Harry didn't bother turning to check who had asked him.

"The Death Eaters seem to be fleeing," Harry answered watching as the last darkly clad figure disapparated.

"Harry?" This voice was familiar so Harry tore his eyes away from John and looked over. Remus was alternating between looking at Harry and looking at John. Harry realized that while he was addressing Harry, he couldn't help but keep an eye on John. The look on his face and those around him seemed to portray John as a threat. "John does not seem to be stopping."

And he was right. John was no longer aiming the fire at opponents but he was allowing the fire to grow bigger and bigger, surrounding him and climbing towards the sky. Harry could feel the overwhelming heat from where he stood.

"I'll handle that," Harry gave Remus a reassuring smile. Now he just had to figure out how to reach John through the wall of heat and fire. But it soon became apparent that it wasn't necessary. Slowly the fire shrank and John's body shook until the fire was completely out.

Harry rushed to check on him. John seemed to be catching his breath. Harry opened his mouth to speak but noticed that John's eyes were transfixed on something behind Harry. Harry followed his gaze to see a charred body—the first Death Eater John had taken out. He tried to keep John from moving towards it.

John knelt beside the body. The smell of burnt flesh was terrible but Harry faced it. He didn't know what was going on with John. "John?" Harry asked tentatively. He noticed that the other Order members were either watching them or tending to the wounded.

John didn't look up but he responded. "I did this," he stated. His voice was neutral, a tone that often infuriated Harry because he couldn't read it. Harry didn't know what to say. He stood slightly behind John, watching him. "Harry, I think I'm going to be sick."

He suddenly jumped to his feet and headed towards the nearest alley. Harry followed. John quickly emptied his stomach of all contents, heaving. Squatting on the ground, John had faced the wall. When he was done his eyes remained closed and he braced himself on the wall. Harry heard footsteps behind him.

It was McGonagall. "Harry…John," she said. "You two need to get out of here. It's not safe. Ministry officials are coming." Harry noticed that her eyes were focused on John. She seemed to half evaluate him and half worry for him.

Harry nodded. "I'll get us out of here." He faced McGonagall momentarily. "When you get back, don't look for us."

She nodded in understanding and Harry returned his attention to John. "Hey, I need you to stand so I can apparate." John nodded, not speaking, and Harry took hold of his arm as he stood and returned them to Grimmuald Place with a loud _crack_.


	11. When the Walls Crumble

_Mutant Son_

Warnings: Slash (not graphic). Crossover.

**Chapter 11: When the Walls Crumble**

John wasn't fully aware when he stood for Harry to apparate them to headquarters. In fact, he was somewhat surprised to be in Harry's room. He wondered why Harry hadn't brought them back to John's. Not that it mattered.

He thought of the body. He wasn't sure why he was so shaken. John had seen his handy work before, when some middle aged man tried to take more than he could afford. But that was years ago and John had changed. Still, John knew he talked a lot. He expected to react more easily to it.

"John?" Harry asked from next to him. John realized he was still standing in the middle of the room.

"I don't think I like that whole teleporting thing," John responded lightly. He hadn't liked it but John knew that wasn't what Harry seemed to be almost silently inquiring about.

"I hated it, too. It's apparation by the way. Side long apparating is always uncomfortable," Harry provided. John was surprised Harry was going with the conversation. Usually he liked to get right to the point. "It's war John. You said it yourself; people die." Ah, there it was.

John laughed mirthlessly. "Yeah, but it's different, isn't it? I killed him…or her. I don't even know."

Harry sighed. "Johnny, you probably saved my life. That Death Eater was behind me and I didn't see him, her, whatever, coming. I don't know who it was either but I can tell you one thing: you saved a lot of lives. I've never met a Death Eater who didn't enjoy what they did."

John nodded though he wasn't completely satisfied. He looked around the room before settling on sitting on the window ledge, which was big enough that it felt like a window seat. He located a pack of cigarettes on it. He must've forgotten them here. Lighting up the cigarette, John just let it burn. He wondered why he let Harry call him Johnny. Only Bobby did that and that was because the guy wouldn't take no for an answer. Johnny was what his mom and, he guessed, step-dad called him.

"I expect the Order won't see it that way. They already think I'm gonna end up like my old man," John thought out loud, pulling his eyes away from the end of the cigarette.

"Some people will."

John couldn't tell whether Harry believed that or was just trying to make him feel better so he nodded again. He was doing that a lot. Harry finally moved from where he had apparated in and he sat on the edge of his bed, a few feet from John.

"Lupin, most likely," John said. John had found that he liked the quiet man. Lupin had his own demons. Plus he was one of the only ones who really gave John a chance. John acted like he didn't care whether people gave him a chance or not; but even he thought something was wrong with him, like he was born wrong. Expect the worst and you don't get hurt.

"McGonagall," Harry added. They were quiet for a while and John started to fidget.

"I want to comfort you," Harry blurted out suddenly. He snapped his mouth shut as if he couldn't believe he had said that.

But John was silent for a moment before admitting, "I think I want you to." And if that wasn't reminiscent of their first kiss.

* * *

><p>Neither of them got up. Harry sucked up his Gryffindor courage and sat next to John and put his hand on his back. He tried rubbing circles on John's back. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to be doing but he knew that John was about the physical. Harry leaned his forehead against the side of John's head. John froze before ever so slightly leaning into him.<p>

The awkward silence still prevailed. Despite John's physical nature, Harry had also heard him ramble just to fill up the silence. So talking. Maybe sharing. Harry had a few unpleasant moments in his life to offer up.

"I was fifteen when my godfather died," Harry began. "Voldemort tricked me. I thought Sirius was in danger but in reality he was safe at home. That vision you saw me have…it connects his mind to mine as much as the other way around."

Harry paused but John seemed to be waiting for him to continue. "Voldemort wanted me to go to the Ministry, the Department of Mysteries to be exact, to get a prophecy that only he and I could touch. So he sent me a vision of Sirius getting tortured there. I took off to save him. My friends wouldn't let me go alone so I let them come with me. I put them in danger.

"Unsurprisingly, the Death Eaters were waiting for us. I guess we held our own for a while but soon we were trapped. The Order showed up. Sirius, too. It was the first real battle I ever saw. It was intense and then Dumbledore showed up and everything just stopped. Except Sirius and a Death Eater, his cousin actually, kept going. He taunted her and then she took advantage of that. She killed him."

Harry took a breath. This was the first time he ever shared this part of the night. "Remus tried to stop me but I chased after her. She taunted me and I lost it. I threw the Cruciatus Curse at her. It's a torture curse and an Unforgivable. Just casting it gives you a lifetime sentence at Azkaban—our prison."

"Shit," John said quietly.

"Yeah, shit," Harry agreed. "Only it didn't work so well. She looked scared for a moment before she started taunting me again. She told me I had to really mean it, to torture her for it to work."

"Did you try it again?"

Harry shook his head. "Had a run in with Voldemort instead. Loads of fun that was."

John smirked, clearly amused, before looking up at him. "But you've never killed anyone."

"That Death Eater's death was quick. My spell would've caused her endless pain. So much you want to die. It's like your nerves are on fire. It can drive you insane. Trust me, I've had it cast on me." Harry paused, debating whether he wanted to continue. Well he was either very brave or very stupid. He dove in. "The prophecy was destroyed but Dumbledore knew it. He told me." Then Harry repeated something only Ron and Hermione knew: his fate.

"_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies ..._"

"So you'll join me in the killer ranks," John responded.

"Or be killed," Harry attempted lightly.

"Doubt it," John commented. "No offense, but your life sucks." Harry laughed, this time truly amused. John gave a small smile in return.

"Trust me," Harry started. "I have more stories. But I'll save those until the next time I comfort you."

"There's a next time?" John asked. "And what's your comfort method? Empathizing with my misery?"

Harry shrugged. "This is a war. I expect there will be next times eventually." He considered John's latter statement. "I've never really comforted anyone before. This is new territory."

John nodded. "You did a good job. On par with Bobby, the master of all comforting."

"The master of all comforting?" Harry wasn't sure whether he should be jealous. John mentioned Bobby a lot and compared Harry to him a few times already. But Harry wasn't sure this was serious enough for him to be jealous. "You talk about him a lot."

John smiled. "Jealous?" he asked, cocky attitude returning as he pulled away from Harry who promptly rolled his eyes despite the fact he had asked himself that moments ago. John got serious. "Honestly? Bobby's probably the only friend I've ever had. I'm not exactly sociable."

"Did anything ever happen between you?" Harry asked, attempting a light tone.

John's eyebrows rose. "Are you kidding? That guy is irredeemably straight. And damn confident of that. What kind of guy climbs into bed with a guy he knows is gay?" When Harry looked like he was going to ask something, John continued. "I had nightmares. Still do though not quite as often. Well they came back since I got here. That's the real reason I'm in the kitchen so late. Anyway, Bobby's lower body temperature comforts me or something."

Harry nodded. "Do you wish—"

"That Bobby was interested?" John questioned. At Harry's sheepish look John actually answered. "I used to," he admitted. "But lately I've been distracted."

"With what?" Harry's eyebrows furrowed.

John laughed again. "You're kinda dense." He promptly decided to show him instead.

When they pulled apart, Harry stupidly said, "Oh."

"Yeah, oh," John agreed. They just sat there for a while, not speaking. John was clearly still upset but less so. Sometimes it was nice knowing you weren't alone. That thought frightened John a little bit. He knew he couldn't depend on anyone. Not Harry, not even Bobby. He was too disillusioned to believe anything else.

* * *

><p>McGonagall finally lowered herself into a chair in the headquarters living room. It had so far been a long night. She hated the politics of war. She hated that she had to play dumb and deny the fact that Harry had even been there. Not even having the energy to floo back to Hogwarts, McGonagall rested in the chair.<p>

That was until Remus entered and sat on the closest couch. "Some battle," Remus commented lightly though his mind too was saturated in dark thoughts.

McGonagall voiced her agreement. "There will be consequences. Pyro—"

"Saved a lot of people," Remus cut in. "This is war, people die. Most of the Order has already killed someone. Azkaban isn't safe anymore."

She sighed. "I know. I mean, I agree. But not all will." She peered at Remus finally. "It's not what he did so much as how he did it. You saw him, Remus. You cannot deny that he was frightening."

Remus sighed too. "No, I cannot," he agreed before gaining back some of his momentum. "But he remained in control. He still stopped that fire. That was Fiendfyre. Diagon Alley would have been engulfed without him."

"Yet again, I agree," McGonagall put in. "I just fear one day he won't be in control. That he won't want to be in control."

"We can only hope he stays strong. I have faith in him. I know Professor Xavier does."

Again McGonagall nodded. She then pulled herself up straighter, bracing herself for the coming discussion. "I did not have a chance to tell you earlier, with the battle raging, but it turns out you were right."

Remus looked at her curiously. "About what?"

McGonagall looked at her old student for a moment, wondering how to phrase what she said next. "You know I went to fetch John myself." Remus noticed that she had chosen to use his given name. At his nod she continued. "I did not give him much warning before I entered his room." She paused again. Here she was, a woman in her sixties, embarrassed by what she was discussing.

Remus's eyebrows furrowed. "Did you catch him doing something harmful?"

She sighed. "Well it depends on how you view what I say next." She took a breath. "Imagine my surprise when I enter to see two barely dressed boys jumping out of bed."

"No," Remus said in response, more from surprise than denial. He had known about John and Harry's relationship but he didn't think it had gone that far. Remus had to admit, he too sometimes viewed Harry as a child.

"Yes."

"Do you suppose they…" Remus trailed off, aware that this was bordering on gossip. But he worried.

"I don't think so," she replied. "I didn't see anything too embarrassing. The proper parts were covered, thank Merlin." If it were anyone else, Remus might have found that comment amusing.

"I knew that they were involved but…I just didn't think."

"Potter will be of age in only two days, he is not a child anymore," McGonagall pointed out. "Nevertheless, I am worried. I told you how I hoped this wouldn't be the case."

Remus didn't know whether he agreed. It was true that putting two troubled people, teenage boys especially, together it could get volatile. Then again, John had been a little friendlier as of late and Harry had smiled more than he had since Sirius's death. Perhaps since Cedric's. That could be each other's doing. But he also meant what he said to Harry. John was Voldemort's son and Harry was the Chosen One. Harry had a role to play.

"I'll talk to him," Remus replied. "I'll look for him in the morning."

McGonagall paused. "Harry asked, well rather ordered, that we do not go looking for them. I believe he wanted to be alone with John."

"Oh, you can't mean that—"

"No," McGonagall smiled slightly this time amused at Remus's horror at the thought of his friends' son's personal life. "John was rather upset. I can tell you, that's one good thing that came from this. We saw that John cannot kill without remorse. He was horrified by what he did. Maybe he is not as much of his father's son as we thought."


	12. A Hint at Things to Come

_Mutant Son_

Warnings: Slash (not graphic). Crossover.

A.N. I know there's been a lot of talking lately but I find when I write I seem to focus a lot on dialogue. I also realized that twelve chapters in, I have covered only two months. I'll either try to make this story long or speed it up to get through everything. I just felt that the first months of this relationship is very important.

**Chapter Twelve: A Hint at Things to Come**

Harry woke up slowly to find himself alone in his bed. He rubbed at his eyes. He could've sworn that John had spent the night but he was nowhere to be seen. That was odd. Though he worried, he expected that John needed time alone. They had been spending perhaps too much time together, excluding the day John had tried to avoid him.

Harry showered before wandering downstairs and into the kitchen. It appeared that Harry had missed breakfast. Either that or the house was empty. When Remus came in from the hallway, Harry was somewhat relieved.

"Where is everyone?" Harry asked.

"Dealing with last night's events, I suppose," Remus answered.

"Hermione and Ron too?" Harry responded.

"Yes," Remus paused. "They're at the Burrow right now. It seems that Mr. Weasley was badly wounded last night." At the worried look on his face, Remus quickly continued. "Don't worry, he's fine. Hermione was going to find you but McGonagall told her to leave you."

Harry's heart clenched in guilt. He hadn't even tried to find out whether anyone on their side was hurt or even dead. He was too focused on John. Hadn't he basically ignored the new prophecy? He was being selfish. To his horror, he realized that he had not even checked on his two best friends.

Remus had been watching Harry carefully and again Harry questioned whether Remus was a legilmens because of what he said next. "Don't worry. Hermione and Ron weren't hurt. I think she understood. She was one of the few who saw John in that alley."

Harry nodded only a little relieved. He noticed that Remus was studying him. "Did you want to talk to me?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"I spoke to McGonagall last night," Remus said lightly, eyes still focused on him. Harry squirmed a bit when he remembered what his old professor had walked in on. "I was not aware that you and John had gotten so intimate."

Harry wasn't sure if he wanted to talk about this with Remus. Sure he was a close friend of his parents and Sirius but sometimes Harry wondered if Remus blamed him. Not so much lately, but all through the last year Remus had acted differently towards him. But then again, while Hermione was great to talk to, she had about the same experience in relationships as he. Could Remus help him? He was after all, as Harry thought before, very close to his family.

Harry sighed. He wasn't sure what to say. "Do we have to do this here? People have a nasty habit of walking in on my conversations." Harry looked slightly accusingly towards Remus who offered a small smile.

"I believe the drawing room has locks."

They headed to the room, neither speaking. Closing the door behind them, Remus both locked the door and cast a silencing charm. That's how it was supposed to be done, Harry thought. Remus sat and sent him a look which clearly said 'So?'

Harry settled into a chair for what promised to be an embarrassing conversation. He would keep it short. "I don't know if intimate is the right word. I mean, we've done…stuff, but not as much as I think you're thinking."

Remus looked mildly relieved. Harry hadn't planned on going on much further but he really needed someone to talk to. He didn't think he could manage this complicated relationship if he didn't. Harry didn't know how John managed it. Despite Harry's mild jealousy of one Bobby Drake (the guy on the pedestal that Harry feared he was constantly being compared to), he promised himself that he would make sure that John had access to Hedwig.

Finally, Harry sighed. "I don't know what to do Moony."

* * *

><p>Remus looked at Harry carefully. For a moment he saw that thirteen year old boy trying to find a happy enough memory to power his Patronus. More importantly, Remus remembered the way Harry looked slightly pained every time he awoke after passing out. Harry had told him that he heard his parents' deaths. The only memory he had of them. Remus's heart went out to him then and it went out to him now. He cursed the world for letting this happen to James' son.<p>

How could a boy with no experience with a loving family successfully navigate such a turbulent relationship? And Remus knew that this relationship was bound to be turbulent, just as much as it promised to be intense. Remus knew Harry would have been happier, or at least more content in a relationship with Ginny. But sometimes the heart would rather deal with pain than settle.

Finally Remus responded. "I cannot pretend to even know what you are going through. I don't know if I can help you."

Harry looked at Remus so intensely that he knew he had to do something. "How do you feel, Harry? I mean what comes to mind when you think of him? Honestly."

He shrugged. "I don't know." He paused to think, he looked down at his shoes. "I know that I was scared last night, and not even of the worst part. I didn't even care that John killed someone. I was scared when John broke down just a little bit. I was scared to comfort him. I worried that I'd fail and lose him."

Remus looked at him sadly. "This is getting serious, Harry." In that moment, Harry looked like just a scared kid. Remus could not remember ever seeing him that way. Though he viewed Harry as Harry and not the Chosen One, they boy he had gotten to know was almost always unfailingly strong.

"I can't do it," Harry said. "If this is getting serious…I don't know. I don't know if I can…what if I'm incapable of a relationship? Besides, John isn't interested in one. This is just physical."

Remus winced. "Harry, I think it has proven to be beyond just physical. On both sides."

"Okay, friends with benefits or something."

"Harry," Remus sighed. "I can't support this relationship. I will be here to help you along but I can only see this ending in pain."

"I know," Harry said. Remus patted Harry on the knee before getting up to leave. It seemed as if the conversation was over. Harry watched Remus exit the room before he mumbled, "But I don't think I care."

* * *

><p>John was in deep shit. This had gotten serious too fast. John had woken up that morning feeling drained. He had looked at Harry lying beside him, face relaxed in sleep, and had smiled. Then that smile faltered. John realized that he wasn't getting in too deep, he already was. And he panicked. He practically jumped out of bed and ran to his own room, heart beating a mile a minute. He paced back and forth.<p>

Where was Bobby when he needed him? All of his coping mechanisms were gone. There was no alcohol in the house, at least that which he could find. Bobby wasn't here to spar with him. Or in their case throw ice and fire at each other until one of them practically passed out. And there was no meaningless sex. Anything he did with Harry these days had some sort of meaning. This was why he couldn't handle relationships. He was still a worthless piece of trash with a fancy name.

Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. He grabbed a piece of paper and a pen from the small desk in his room which he sometimes used to write. He sat down, hand in his hair.

_Drake_, he wrote. He didn't know whether he would actually send this. Harry had offered him his owl, which was apparently the way wizards sent mail so maybe he would.

_I think I'm going insane. If you were here you'd be laughing your ass off. Dude, you have no idea what I've gotten myself into. I know right now you're imagining some sort of horrible crime I've committed, the kind of trouble everyone would expect from me. But that's not it. There's this guy (I know you're laughing or at least smiling infuriatingly. Stop or I'll burn something near and dear to you when I get back). At first, I was just bored and restless. Then this kid shows up, all sad eyes and messy hair, reeking of a fucked up life. I admit, I started playing with him at first. Then I started to legitimately attempt to seduce him. He didn't take me seriously. I think he may just have you beat in the neurotic inferiority complex category. Yet suddenly he takes control and people just listen. He's apparently supposed to be some sort of savior, or at least that's what some of them treat him like. The kid has two personalities: Harry Potter, boy wonder and 'just Harry' (his words not mine)._

_It started off just physical, though not as physical as I had hoped (the kid's actually a fucking virgin). And then I started to care and he started to care, though I should have expected that one considering he is the boy wonder and all. It's not about getting off anymore or passing the time. I actually swore loyalty to him in front of a room full of people. They had this truth serum that I let them give me so I can pass some sort of test which would allow me to fight. Imagine my surprise when I let that one slip. And then he wouldn't just let me avoid him. I feel like every time I'm alone with him it gets more serious._

_Then, last night, there was a battle. They needed me to put out a fire, but you know me. I go on the offensive, never the defensive. I took out a bunch of Death Eaters (what my father's flunkies call themselves). I killed one. And you know which one I killed? The one who almost got the jump on Harry. I could've just incapacitated him like I did the others but no I killed him (or her). After all that was over I just went kind of numb for a while. Well, after I threw up fantastically in an alley. And you know what Harry, that bastard, does? He comforts me. Offers up his own story. Mine's worse but he's not so sure. But that's his business. I actually leaned into his fucking touch. And then I slept with him in his bed and we didn't even fool around. I just slept there. _

_I know you. You probably don't think this is a problem. Maybe it's not. For someone like you, though I am not so secretly convinced that you'll leave behind a line of dysfunctional relationships in the next few years. Anyway, this won't end well. I have no idea what I'm doing. And whatever I am doing, I don't want to be. Nothing is forever. No one sticks around forever. You only have yourself. I need to get out of this relationship (that feels so weird to write), but too much of me doesn't want to. Bobby, I really need you right now._

_-Johnny_

John didn't know why he wrote the diminutive of his name but it just felt right. He needed to send this. He wandered out of his room and headed towards Harry's. The snowy owl had been there last night. Hopefully she still was. John knocked lightly on Harry's door. When there was no answer he slipped into the room. The snowy owl, Hedwig he thought, sat in her cage looking at him. John secretly found it creepy. Nevertheless, he was desperate.

"Hey," he said softly to the bird, partially offering the letter. "Can you deliver a letter?" Hedwig continued to stare at him. John took that as a yes. "How do I do this?" The bird suddenly hopped out of her cage and grabbed the letter. John jumped back instinctively.

The bird looked at him, as if waiting for instructions. "Um...get that to Bobby Drake? He's in Westchester, New York." And then the snowy owl took off. John got out of Harry's room and back into his as quickly as possible.


	13. My Best Friend's Love Life

_Mutant Son_

A.N. So I have noticed I have put a lot of Lupin, McGonagall, and Hermione in and not so much other characters. I don't think I could actually get that many characters right, especially Ron or Ginny. I don't identify with Ron at all, even if I like him. As for Ginny, I don't think her character is actually ever developed. So I'll just stick to this and attempt adding others when I can. Particularly Bobby. I love both Pyro and Iceman.

**Chapter Thirteen: My Best Friend's Love Life **

Harry wasn't sure who was avoiding whom. Either way, by the time of Harry's birthday two days later, he had only seen John fleetingly a handful of times. He suspected that they were both avoiding each other because the last time John had done it solo, Harry had cornered him easily.

Harry was in his room, reading through another book. They were still no closer to finding anything. While they concentrated on finding something about this mysterious R.A.B. and the forms of the final Horcruxes, Harry expected this was futile. He sighed. Lately, whenever he was stressed he found John who would thoroughly take his mind off of anything and everything. But Harry didn't want to find him now, seeing as John was now one of the reasons why he was stressed. He kept thinking of his conversation with Remus. It was undeniable; Remus was most likely right. He felt like his blood was screaming 'so what?' though his head knew the smart path.

Someone knocked quietly on the door. It wasn't John; he never knocked. Feeling too lazy to get up, he just called for whomever to come in. Glancing at his watch he realized it was still too early for visitors.

Hermione hesitantly entered his room and looked around. Her eyes landed on Hedwig's empty cage and then to a small pile of clothes on his chair. "Could we talk?" she asked softly. "I know it's early." Harry was curious and slightly worried. Hermione never seemed to be this cautious around him.

"Yeah," Harry replied. He stood. "Would you like to sit on the bed? The chair is kind of terrible."

"Which is why you seem to be using it as a laundry basket."

Harry grinned sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. "Actually those are clean."

The normal Hermione appeared as she chastised him. "Harry, those are going to get wrinkled," she said as she sat on the end of the bed. Harry sat a few feet from her, closer to the head of the bed. Knowing it was useless to scold him any further she moved on. "Happy Birthday," she smiled. "Finally of age."

"Tell me about it. You know, I never realized that you were that much older than me."

"Yes," she smiled a bit teasingly. "Our little baby is all grown up." Harry laughed, before getting serious again.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" Harry asked.

Hermione looked at her hands briefly before raising her gaze to Harry. "Actually, it's kind of embarrassing. But you're my best friend and I don't really have any girl friends, unless you count Ginny, but she's Ron's sister and only really my close friend in the summer because we end up spending so much time together," she rambled.

"Hermione, you're my best friend, too. You and Ron."

Hermione smiled. "Thank you, Harry. Sometimes I actually feel like a third wheel around you two, though less so now that Ron and I are dating and you are…with John." She ended the sentence awkwardly.

"I think we're getting off topic."

"Yeah, well, anyway. I wanted to talk to you about Ron. I know he's your friend, too, but I was wondering if we could pretend for just a moment that he's just some guy that I'm dating and you happen to know how he thinks."

Harry was worried now. Was something wrong? How could he not see it? He thought back to the last couple of weeks but couldn't remember any fights or drama. Though Harry didn't know what he was getting into, he figured he owed Hermione this. "Sure," he said hesitantly. "What's the problem?"

Hermione seemed to sigh in relief, gaining more confidence. "It's not really a problem, though I suppose you could call it one. It's about…well it's about the physical side of our relationship." She looked at him expectantly. What did he get himself into? But then again, they had both been there for him, though, and he would be there for them in any way possible. Even if it was awkward.

When he didn't recoil or protest, she continued. "You know how a while ago I told John that we both decided to wait?" She didn't wait for a response. "Well, I don't know quite if I changed my mind completely. I just want to...I guess explore our relationship further."

This was one of the reasons why she had suggested he forget that they were talking about Ron. He could do that. Right, just some guy. "How far?" he asked.

Hermione sent him a brilliant smile. "Well, I'm not sure, but so far we have been rather tame. Though it's nice, it's not very passionate."

"What is 'it'?" he hoped it wasn't something to explicit.

"Kissing. Snogging, really, if I wanted to use the colloquial."'

"Oh," Harry said relieved. "So you want to know how you could, I guess, take it up a notch?" Harry paused. "Why ask me? Aren't you the one who's supposed to be giving me relationship advice?"

"Well," she paused. "Don't take this the wrong way but you kind of suck with emotions which is why I don't normally speak to you about such matters. But this isn't exactly emotional. And now that you have more experience than me in other ways…" she trailed off as if expecting him to get the rest.

"As long as you're not asking for tips, because I'm still rather clueless. I kind of just follow John's lead," Harry warned.

"No," Hermione replied. "Nothing like that. I was just wondering how I should communicate this to him."

Harry laughed at this. "So you're not coming to me for emotional advice but for advice on conducting a heart to heart?" Honestly that was ridiculous. Harry was never good with words.

"That's the thing," Hermione said with the frustration she usually reserved for a particularly daunting puzzle. "I don't think I could talk about it. But maybe I can show him."

Harry wanted to laugh again. There was no way he could help her there. "I'm sorry Hermione, but I don't know. Have you thought about talking to John?"

Hermione looked horrified at the idea. "Really, now. He'd bite my head off. There would be no way he'd talk to me."

"You would be surprised."

Sighing, Hermione recognized defeat. "I guess I'll see you later; we'll properly celebrate your birthday."

Before she left, Harry called out to her. "Hey, Hermione?" she turned. "Thanks, you know, for coming to me. I'm sorry I couldn't do anything."

Hermione smiled at him. "Harry, you're a great friend. And you did do something. You pointed me in the direction of someone who _could_ help."

* * *

><p>Hermione almost didn't do it. She was in front of John's door poised to knock when she turned and walked back down the hall. But Harry said John could help, would help. So, she determinedly turned around and knocked confidently on the door. It took a few seconds but, a moment later, she was staring into the face of St. John Allerdyce.<p>

He didn't say anything, seemingly waiting for her to state her purpose. She took a deep breath. "I need advice and Harry said you could help me." His eyebrows rose. "I guess he thinks highly enough of you that he thought you would help." That did it. He opened the door and gestured for her to enter. Hermione almost smiled to herself at her success. Then she remembered what she was here to talk about.

John's room was different than Harry's. While Harry's mess was contained to a small area, John's stuff was all over. She wondered how he even found anything. Hermione was slightly surprised to see that much of the mess was books and stray sheets of paper. She had seen him read but she didn't think he was quite that into it.

"What can I help you with that the boy wonder couldn't do himself?" John asked sarcastically. Hermione thought this odd. He almost sounded like Draco Malfoy when he referred to Harry. She was surprised when he actually cleared the chair off for her and offered her a seat. She took it slowly and watched as John half sat on the window sill.

"I wanted his advice for taking mine and Ron's relationship to another level. Not sex," she quickly clarified sternly at his smirk. He mockingly raised his hands up as if surrendering. "I thought since you and Harry, well…are a you and Harry that he could help me. He seemed to suggest that he still has no idea what he's doing."

The smirk returned to his face. "Not completely true. He's a quick learner. Very quick."

"Not that way," Hermione frowned. "I guess it makes more sense to come to you, though. You successfully seduced one of the densest boys I have ever met."

"Not quite," John clarified. "He doesn't seem to want to give it up." It was moments like these that Hermione wondered what Harry saw in him. John was, to put it rudely, an asshole. She wasn't completely blind. She understood the lust, but Harry's feelings for John went beyond lust.

"Anyway, what do you think I should do?"

He looked at her. "Dressing skankily is totally out of the picture?" he asked. At her incredulous expression, he thought more deeply about it. "Well, you can do textbook flirtation. Touch him a lot. Smile. For some strange reason, for girls it pays to expose your neck." He studied her for a second. "It wouldn't hurt to wear a shirt that shows more cleavage." He rolled her eyes at her look. "I don't mean show everything. Just remind him it's there. Run your fingers on the space between your collarbone and chest."

Hermione just stared at him. "What?" he asked, annoyed.

She shook her head. "Nothing. I just wasn't expecting you to be this helpful. Or to know this much on the top of your head."

"What can I say?" he smirked, dragging out his lighter, bringing it to his lips. "I know it like a business."

She rolled her eyes at his cockiness, but she had more questions. "What do you mean touch him a lot?" she asked suspiciously.

"Nothing scandalous," he replied. He gestured towards the bed. "Sit there."

"Why?"

"I'll demonstrate a bit. I promise I'm not up to anything." Normally, Hermione wouldn't trust him. He was, after all, everything her mother warned her about. But Harry trusted him. And as for what she had seen so far, not only was he gay, she was almost certain that the only one he was interested in was Harry. So, she got up and sat on the bed. John followed, keeping space between them.

"You should closer to him for this, but I don't want to make this weird," he gestured at the two of them. He looked at her for a moment and Hermione realized this was the first time she ever actually looking into his eyes. She was surprised to find that they were not brown as she thought they were. They were actually a weird dark blue-gray color.

"Now in touching him, there's the usual light touch on the shoulder or brushing of arms. But that's child's play. To really drive your point home, it's about the leg. The knee is good for starters." He needlessly brought his hand to his knee. "But really, you want to go as high as you dare. Don't go too high if you're not willing to put out. Even if you're close to the knee though, the inside of the leg is great." He brought his hand to a spot only a few inches above his knee.

"Do you mind?" she gestured to herself. He looked amused more than anything so she took that as a no. She rested her hand on his knee. Hermione couldn't believe she was doing this, but he was being so helpful and she was desperate. "Like this?" he nodded. "And like this?" she moved her hand up a little and rested it partially on the inside of his leg. He watched her rather detached. He didn't seem to have a problem being a practice figure.

He grabbed her hand. "No, resting on the knee sure but, any higher, make it a brief touch. Brief touches are actually preferable." When he let go of her hand she looked at him for a moment. He shrugged so she tried what he suggested. "That's right. See? Simple." She removed her hand.

"So how come you're so unaffected by it?" she asked. Maybe she could use this moment to get more information on the guy who seemed to occupy so much of Harry's thoughts.

"I know you don't mean it and it's not exactly exciting since I don't particularly like you," he said. Her eyebrows rose at his bluntness. "I don't dislike you. I'm just kinda neutral, and not attracted to you. Wrong gender, you know? Plus, I learned not to let some stuff affect me." That couldn't be vaguer.

"Could I ask you a question? It's about Harry," she said quickly.

"That would be getting into my business."

"How about this?" she asked. "I answer something about Harry and you return the favor. Only one."

He seemed to consider it for a moment. "I reserve the right to refuse to answer," he said warningly. Though she was still uncertain about their relationship, she took it as another sign that John was truly interested in Harry for more than whatever it was they get up to alone.

John thought for a moment, wondering what he wanted to ask. "How was Harry abused?" he asked rather bluntly. Hermione looked mildly shocked. "Oh come on. I recognize the signs."

"I don't know how much he was abused," she said slowly. "He doesn't talk about it. I think it was neglect more than anything else. He wore his cousin's old clothes and his cousin is at least four times his size. Every school year he'd come back a little too skinny. And from what I've seen they were downright nasty to him. I never saw them much but they looked unpleasant. I think they tried to make Harry invisible. I mean Harry's bright but his grades don't reflect that. Like he was discouraged from doing well or put down."

John nodded as if he expected as much. "My turn," she said. "Harry thinks that, at most, you view him as a friend with benefits. That your feelings don't go beyond that. Is that true?"

John's face remained neutral but Hermione had come to suspect that meant he was covering up his emotions. "I don't do relationships, never have," he replied. But that didn't answer her question. She looked at him unimpressed so he continued. "Listen I don't know why Harry thinks that. I practically spelt it out for him that I felt more than that."

"You underestimate how dense he is," she said fondly.

"Doesn't matter anyway. It doesn't go beyond this," he said roughly. She looked at him incredulously.

"You just admitted that you like him and it's obvious he feels the same. You're just going to let that go?"

"Yes," he replied shortly. "Now I think I answered your question. You can leave now."

Huffing, she hurriedly left, not wanting to be in the same room as him. Just as she started to think she could possibly one day be friends with him, he says something like that. He was going to break Harry's heart.


	14. Prophecized Betrayal

_Mutant Son_

Warnings: Violence. Potentially disturbing.

A.N. So I can't convincingly write Luna but I'm putting her in any way as I believe Harry truly views her as a friend. And it is his birthday. Also surprise second half of this chapter. Harry has a wonderful birthday.

**Chapter Fourteen: Prophesized Betrayal**

Harry hated being anti-social but he hadn't wanted to face people in this mood. So he hid like a coward until he felt he could hide no more. It was after all his birthday and he knew people would want to celebrate it with him. It was around dinner time when he finally ventured downstairs.

He entered the dining room to see a room full of people: All of the Weasleys except Charlie, Hermione, Remus, McGonagall, Tonks, and, to his surprise, Neville and Luna. They all cried out "Happy Birthday" at once. Harry grinned. These were his friends and mentors.

Bee-lining towards Neville and Luna, both of whom he hadn't seen all summer and who weren't Order members, he greeted them.

"Happy Birthday, Harry," Neville said shaking his hand.

Luna smiled that dazed smile of hers. Harry realized he had missed it. "Yes, Happy Birthday, Harry. You look rather happy. Wrackspurts no longer bothering you?"

"Not at the moment," he replied. He could never remember what wrackspurts actually were. Oh, well. He'd humor her. Harry looked around the room one more time. He was somehow both relieved and hurt that John wasn't there.

Remus walked over, apparently understanding the look on his face. "Tonks went up to fetch him but he didn't answer," he said sympathetically.

Harry shrugged. "Whatever. He'd just glare in the corner."

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had wandered over to join them. They took their plates of food into the living room where there was space to sit. "Who's 'he'?" Neville asked curiously.

Ron looked around the room, perplexed. "Who do you mean 'he', Neville? There is no one else in the room," he stated densely.

"Oh, honestly, Ron," Ginny sighed out.

Hermione lightly touched his arm. "He means John." She sent him a flirtatious smile. Harry caught her eyes and she shrugged. Apparently John did help.

"Okay, then, who's John?" Neville asked. Harry noticed that since the Department of Mysteries and then the fight last year, Neville had become more confident. Harry liked this new Neville more than ever.

It was Ginny who answered. "Actually, he's You-Know-Who's son," she said plainly. She scowled. "And he acts like it."

Ron looked at her. "I thought you liked him." Harry almost laughed. She had been glaring at John for weeks for some reason unknown to Harry. Ron was even more clueless than he. Harry expected Hermione to make a comment but she only grabbed Ron's hand which was resting near his knee. She rested both of their hands on his knee. Harry smiled, Hermione glared at him, and Ron looked confused.

Luna eyed the two. "It's so nice to see you two together. It's awfully quiet though without you two disagreeing all the time. But I suppose that was flirting." Ron's face turned red and Harry smiled again. He loved his friends. "So You-Know-Who has a son? Harry doesn't agree with Ginny."

Sometimes Harry forgot how easily Luna caught on to things. "In ways, I guess," he responded neutrally. "But he's nice-no that's not the word. I don't know. Likeable enough?"

Ron snorted. "Likeable? He thinks he's God's gift to humanity. Or well the world."

Ginny nodded. Harry was surprised that Hermione didn't argue. He thought she had liked John, and she certainly seemed to be following someone's advice, he had assumed John's.

"Wow," Neville said. "Do you think we'll meet him?" He seemed to offer the question to the room, but Luna was looking at Harry waiting for him to answer.

"Er…I doubt it," Harry began.

"But you two have grown so close," Ginny inserted sarcastically.

Harry thought about glaring at her. He momentarily wondered if she had caught on. But hadn't Remus said she was only suspicious of John?

"Close?" Luna asked absent-mindedly.

"Allerdyce is trying to get into Harry's pants," she put it simply. As Harry blushed spectacularly at how close that was to the truth, he noticed she looked a bit jealous. That left an awkward silence in the room.

"Really?" Neville asked, wide-eyed. "Openly?"

Harry felt he had to end it somehow. It seemed John was rubbing off on him. Harry almost winced at his own choice of words. "He's only messing with me," he claimed. Hermione seemed to be looking at him awfully closely.

Luna offered a light, "Hmmm…" She hadn't even met John and she was suspicious.

Neville changed the topic and they started talking about their summers before the conversation turned to the war. "Did you hear what happened in Diagon Alley?"

The Golden Trio nodded. "We were there," Hermione said. Neville looked partially admiringly at her.

"That fire though…no one has ever seen something like that," he continued. The four who knew what really happened exchanged looks wondering whether to bring up John. Harry came to a decision.

He shrugged. "I guess that's all anyone knows," he lied. Ginny looked questioningly at him, not expecting him to lie to friends. But Harry didn't want to talk about John anymore.

Soon, Mrs. Weasley walked in. "Come on you lot. There's cake."

They all headed in for cake, which promised to be delicious just as all food Mrs. Weasley made was. They all sat around eating cake and chatting. Harry noticed that the conversation seemed to focus on the war or politics. It seemed that the 'adults' now accepted that all six were going to be involved in this war, whether they liked it or not.

The conversation was still going strong at half past eleven when a loud noise came from the hallway. Everyone in the room jumped up. Mrs. Weasley pushed Neville, Ginny, and Luna back. The others rushed into the hall.

It was John. He seemed to be staring at the umbrella stand he had knocked over, apparently entering through the front door. Harry hadn't been aware that he left.

John looked up. "Hello all," he offered slowly.

Remus took a step towards him. "John, we asked you not to leave the house. For your own safety," he partially scolded. But he looked worried.

John shrugged, taking a step, hand still on the wall. "Got bored. I've never followed rules for that long…you know?"

And Harry realized something. John was drunk. Very drunk if his sudden laugh was evidence of anything. Harry pushed past everyone. They had been avoiding each other all day, but this was ridiculous.

"John…are you drunk?" Harry asked, suddenly pissed. John spent almost every night looking for alcohol but he didn't expect John to leave to get it. He put himself in incredible danger. Harry suddenly understood why everyone always got so angry or disappointed with him when he intentionally put himself in harm's way.

"Aw only a little bit," John grinned charmingly. Harry grabbed him by his jacket and dragged him into the living room to his right. It took more effort than he thought it would. How the hell did John get home like this? Everyone watched him curiously before he closed and locked the door, throwing a silencing charm in for good measure.

John was still grinning. "So angry," he commented at Harry's glare.

"What the fuck, John?" He didn't get why John had done this. John got a look on his face before he pushed Harry against the door, leaning in so his mouth was almost touching Harry's, who could smell the strong scent of alcohol on his breath.

"Good choice," he paused as if thinking. It seemed that he was drunk enough that forming coherent thoughts was difficult. "Of words," he finally went on. One of John's hands trailed down until it was over Harry's crotch.

Normally this wouldn't be much of a problem but John was drunk and Harry didn't want anything to happen like that. Harry pushed John's hand away and regained his senses. John didn't struggle but instead leaned so that his head was leaning on the door over Harry's shoulder. John closed his eyes.

Then Harry noticed something. A mark on John's neck. A hickey to be exact. One he knew he hadn't left as the spot was exposed for everyone to see. Harry pushed John back roughly, who stumbled into a chair. There was better lighting there and Harry took in his appearance more.

John's hair was a mess, his lips were swollen, and he hadn't even managed to zip his jeans properly. "You were with someone," Harry accused.

John had the gall to grin again. "You're not putting out," he said plainly. "I found someone who would."

Harry wasn't upset; he was angry. They had both avoided calling this a relationship but still, the emotion was there. John had cheated on him.

"You're such an asshole," Harry said angrily. "I hope you get an STD."

Harry stormed out of the room, past his friends and Remus who had been waiting for him. Hermione tried to stop him, but he brushed past her none too gently. He didn't see the look that passed over John's face as he had stormed away. John's eyes had turned downcast. The look on his face somehow spoke of both determination and regret.

When Harry got to his room, he paced back and forth. Why had he bothered? Why did he get involved with someone he knew had the genes of a monster? Harry spotted the book he had been reading through and launched it against the wall before plopping down on his bed and put his head in his hands. He felt…betrayed. Did he have the right to?

He didn't know how long he had been sitting there for, but there came a frantic knock on the door. "Go away!" he shouted.

"Harry!" it was Hermione's voice. "There's an attack on the Ministry."

At that Harry launched out of bed and whipped his wand out. He opened the door to see Hermione's worried face. He brushed past her again, then turned angrily towards her. "Are you coming?" he asked coldly. She only nodded and they hurried downstairs. John was not there but everyone else seemed to be.

McGonagall spotted Harry. "Potter, good." She turned to the rest of the Order. "This isn't like Diagon Alley. We fight like there will not be a next battle. There will be no time for organization. Just fight."

And at that, the sound of disapparation filled the room as they all entered the battle field, the Ministry of Magic itself. Harry looked around. He wasn't scared, only angry. And his anger was fueling him.

Harry threw curses left and right, at every Death Eater who dared approach him. He wasn't sure what spells he was actually using, running on pure adrenaline and anger. He knew that he was more than just disarming and stunning people. Harry knew he was causing serious damage to the other side. Never once though did a spell that could kill someone pass his lips.

Harry wasn't totally aware of where all the Order members were. This was true chaos, beyond even Diagon Alley. He understood McGonagall's warning now. It wasn't just Order members but also Ministry workers, some who were obviously too scared to fight. And he had never seen so many Death Eaters. He had never known Voldemort had recruited so many followers.

Then he felt something. A searing pain in his scar. Happy Birthday Harry, he thought to himself as he turned to face the Dark Lord.

* * *

><p>Hermione noticed when the fight slowed down. It was as if both sides at once came to the conclusion that something important was happening. She followed their lead and her heart jumped. Harry and Voldemort were walking towards each other. Everyone in the room had stopped fighting as they felt the tension. Hatred seemed to be rolling off Harry in waves. Hermione had never been more frightened. But she was frozen like everyone in the room. She was reminded of the Department of Mysteries, when Dumbledore entered and everyone stopped.<p>

A few Death Eaters raised their wands but before anything could be done or the fighting could start again, Voldemort spoke. Hermione had never seen, let alone heard him before, and she was petrified. "The boy's mine," he whispered yet everyone in the room could hear.

Voldemort put up a shield which encircled him and Harry. Hermione's heart practically stopped when she realized that Voldemort had ensured that no one could interfere in the fight. Harry wasn't ready. He was barely seventeen and the Horcruxes were still out there.

"Shall we duel, Potter?" Voldemort asked.

Harry gazed fiercely at him. "That went so well last time," he practically sneered.

Voldemort smiled. "Your anger is intoxicating. Come on Potter. Show me how you feel."

Surprisingly, Voldemort did not shoot a killing curse. He seemed to want to play with Harry.

"Diffindo."

"Impedimenta!"

"Crucio."

"Reducto!"

Harry dodged and blocked spells as they came at him. He was doing well, but Voldemort was holding back, laughing. Harry got angrier and angrier. "Incendio!" he shouted.

Voldemort put out the fire easily and, before Harry could recover, he disarmed Harry wordlessly.

But before the wand could hit the ground, Harry shouted, "Accio!" And it _came back_.

Voldemort's surprise didn't stop him from reacting, however. With barely a motion of his hand, Harry was on his back and his head made a frightening crack as it came into contact with the floor. His wand remained in his hand until Voldemort strolled over, kicking it away. Harry moved slightly, but before he could do more Voldemort said plainly, "Crucio."

Harry seemed to be attempting to hold back his screams. The Ministry members seemed to stare in horror but a few of the Order members tried frantically to reach Harry. The Death Eaters laughed as they failed but the Order paid no mind as they tried to stop Voldemort. Hermione and Ron shot every spell they knew at the shield. Everyone failed and the Death Eaters simply looked on. They knew Voldemort's shield would hold.

Harry could no longer hold back his screams. Hermione just about cried in fear and frustration but she wouldn't give up. The determined look on Ron's face confirmed that he too would never give up.

Voldemort lifted the curse and laughed. "Potter, you must know that your end is here."

But apparently Harry didn't because against all odds, he stood slowly. Voldemort looked surprised then angry. Hermione's stomach turned in hope but Harry fell back down, only a few feet from where he had been. Voldemort again began to laugh and taunt Harry.

"You fool. You thought you stood a chance. Your father had that same arrogance, but he learned in the end who was his superior. Tell me, Potter, are you ready to be reunited with him?"

"No," he practically whispered. Then before anyone knew what happened, a red light shot from where Harry had somehow obtained his wand. Voldemort barely got a shield up in time but the force of the stunning spell sent him flying back. "Finite Incantantum," Harry whispered before falling back completely.

Before the Death Eaters could react, Ron had reached Harry. Almost as one, the Order, the Ministry, and Ron, holding on to Harry, disapparated in the midst of confusion. The Order had lost; the Ministry had fallen. But not for the first time in her life, Hermione truly believed in the Harry Potter magic.

* * *

><p>John had fallen asleep shortly after Ron dragged him upstairs to John's room. If he was in any other state, John would question why it was Ron who had helped him.<p>

John was startled out of sleep and it took him a moment to understand why. There was something going on downstairs. Something bad. Harry, he thought.

Adrenaline and a few hours of sleep propelled his none too sober body into action. He ran downstairs to see McGonagall yelling at people to go home or move out of the way. Ron was carrying Harry who wasn't moving. In the chaos John could just stare. Harry was eerily as still as Moody had been. John actually prayed for the second time in his life. The first time he had prayed for his mother to come back. To not leave him alone with his father. Now he was praying for a boy whose heart he had broken just a few short hours ago.

Finally, people cleared out, sending one last look over to the couch where Ron had laid Harry down. John came back to his senses and ran to Hermione who stood there, pale as a ghost, hands over her mouth. But he saw Harry breathing. Short lived relief washed over him.

"Hermione! Hermione!" John tried to get her attention. She seemed to jump as she was shaken out of whatever state of shock she had been in. "What happened? What happened to Harry?"

Hermione for a moment seemed about to turn away from him, as if she had decided he didn't get to know. But she paused as if seeing something on his face. He knew he didn't look like the cold, cocky fire mutant. He couldn't be bothered with the mask.

"There was a battle at the Ministry," she seemed to find it hard to form words. "You-Know-Who showed up and Harry faced him. God, he faced him!"

She seemed about to collapse but he somehow caught her, though he imagined that was just a reflex. "Then what happened?" John asked, stomach dropping.

"He separated himself and Harry from the rest of the group. No one could reach them and we all just stopped and watched. Powerless," her words were coming faster now. "He played with Harry, like a snake playing with its dinner. Harry did so well." Hermione said, eyes tearing. "And then he disarmed Harry and flung him back. Harry hit his head. Hard. Too hard."

John had somehow stopped breathing. Hermione, on the other hand, took a deep breath. "He tortured Harry. Oh, God he tortured him! We heard the screams but we couldn't get to him. We tried so hard!" This time she really started crying, but John couldn't comfort her. He was listening in shock.

At that moment, a woman who John had never seen came bustling in, quickly followed by Lupin. She even pushed McGonagall out of the way. As she knelt next to Harry's side, Ron moved away to give her room. Ron looked scared to death. The woman started doing stuff with her wand and grabbing vials out of her bag. Doctor, John breathed.

He turned back to Hermione. "How did he get away?" he whispered. Hermione wiped at her eyes before truly looking at John.

"Harry got up. Just for a moment. Harry tricked him," she breathed, eyes locked on John's. "He must've been in terrible pain but he tricked the Dark Lord. Without him noticing, Harry had gotten to his wand. He repelled You-Know-Who back and ended the spell keeping us from getting to him."

"He's going to be okay though, right?" he asked, almost begging her to say yes. That Harry would be fine after a night's sleep. John knew he was being naive but he so desperately needed that to be true.

Hermione sniffed and, in a moment, she and John came to some sort of comraderie only hinted at earlier in the day. Yesterday, John realized. "I don't know," she sounded so small that John actually supported more of her weight. "He hit his head hard and people…people go crazy from prolonged exposure to the Cruciatus Curse." Harry's words from the other night ran through his head: _My spell would've caused her endless pain. So much you want to die. It's like your nerves are on fire. It can drive you insane. Trust me, I've had it cast on me._

John didn't know whether he or Hermione tucked her head under his chin. But it only lasted a brief moment; John could no longer support his own weight, let alone hers. He felt like he was falling but Hermione grabbed him and guided him into the chair. She held his hand and they both worried for the boy John was trying desperately not to love.


	15. TheBoyWhoRefusedtoLieDownandDie

_Mutant Son_

A.N. Apparently I have decided that I like Hermione's POV. As intelligent as she is, she can offer insight into Harry and John's relationship that neither boy would notice on their own. In this chapter we'll see why John did what he did and for the first time get really into his head. Oh, and slight reference to the Magneto-Pyro plane scene in X2.

Also, thank you all so much for reading, reviewing, and whatevering my story. A few reviewers mentioned that this is better than my first draft. Thank god. I figure, with a few more years under my belt my writing should have improved. _Nostalgic Beauty_—I definitely agree that in the previous draft things moved too fast between Harry and John. I actually have no idea why I did that. Anyway, to the story!

**Chapter Fifteen: The Boy Who Refused to Lie Down and Die**

Three days. Three days and Harry still hadn't woken up. Madame Pomfrey told them Harry would be fine. Eventually. But as much as Hermione trusted her opinion, she was still worried. Maybe it was because she had lived in the muggle world so long. A world where a head injury like that would have serious consequences.

Apparently, the head injury wasn't specifically the problem. Combined with the Cruciatus, however, and Harry wouldn't be awake for a few days. Hermione's heart clenched when Madame Pomfrey had admitted that there may be some long-lasting effects. Madame Pomfrey had sighed, "Maybe I should just put aside a bed solely for Potter." It would have been funny under almost any other circumstance.

Ron and Hermione barely left Harry's side, only leaving to eat or sleep. Surprisingly, Ginny was keeping her distance. If Hermione wasn't so worried about Harry, she would have confronted her. Or even if she simply wasn't so worried about John.

To Ron's chagrin, John hadn't left the room since Remus had laid Harry down on the bed. He hadn't eaten, even when Remus had sat in the room for hours trying to get him to. As John wasn't a big eater anyway, the worst was that John hadn't spoken. John tended to run his mouth a lot. Every once in a while John would doze off but he wouldn't stay that way for long. It seemed as if John thought any moment of sleep may be the moment something happens to Harry.

Hermione and Remus had exchanged glances, partially surprised and partially pained by John's state of being. It was because of the fact that John had tried to comfort her that night that Hermione decided she wouldn't stand for it any longer. When she entered, Ron was in a chair on one side of the bed and John the other. Ron sent her a small smile when he saw her but John's eyes remained fixed on some point out the window. Walking over to Ron, she put her hand on his shoulder.

"Do you mind letting me talk to John?" she asked. Ron looked slightly suspicious, but in a way that communicated more surprise than possible thoughts of a hidden love affair, between John and Hermione, that is. He finally nodded, leaving the room, but not before glaring at John who still hadn't moved.

Dragging Ron's chair to the other side of the bed, Hermione placed it so it faced in towards John while still allowing her to easily check on Harry.

She sighed. "Are you going to speak to me? Or have you decided that I don't deserve at least that much respect?"

John actually looked at her which she took as a good sign. "What is it that you want me to say?"

Hermione looked frustrated. "_Anything_. I haven't known you too long but I do know that your being this quiet is unnatural." She eyed him. "You're worried. Admit it."

"I think that's kinda obvious," John sent her an annoyed look.

"Yes, well," she paused, wondering what she was about to get herself into. "We've all had each other to talk to. To worry with. And you, no matter how strong you think you are, cannot sit here alone. Everyone needs somebody some times."

John practically snarled, "I don't _need_ anybody." He returned to looking out the window.

"Yes, you do," she stated strongly. "And well, did you ever think that I might need to talk to you? So much happened that night, that entire day. And Harry went into that battle mad. I've never seen him so angry. He snapped at me for nothing. I need to know what I'm going to face when he wakes up."

"That's none of your business."

"Harry is my business. He has been since he was a scrawny eleven year old boy with more bravery than sense. Since I've had to force him to eat before Quidditch or be the voice of wisdom every time he broke a rule. Ever since I had to sit by a hospital bed almost every year, because Harry always has to play the hero. To be the hero." She took a breath. "Who is to say that Harry is _your_ business?"

John had let her rant. He switched between looking at her and out the window. Finally, "The last thing I said to him was 'You're not putting out. I found someone who would.'"

Hermione looked at him for a second than over at Harry. Harry had been so upset. He had never pushed her away so roughly before. Harry had gone into that battle so blind with anger that he had walked right up to Voldemort even though Harry knew he wasn't ready. And why? Because St. John Allerdyce, the idiot, cheated on him.

She wanted to be angry with John. She really did. But for the few moments Hermione tried to bring that emotion up, she kept remembering how John had looked at her when he practically begged her to tell him that Harry was going to be okay. Whatever John had done, it wasn't about sex.

"Why?" she simply asked, tiredly.

He looked surprised, the first emotion she had seen on his face in two days. Hermione supposed he expected her to go off on him. Maybe wanted her to. "I think my last statement kinda answered that question."

"No, it didn't," Hermione took a risk. She placed her hand on his knee, this time in an attempt to convince him to open up to her rather than practice her flirting skills. She could've laughed. Two days ago she had been worried about her relationship with Ron not being passionate enough. Now she was dealing with a seriously injured Harry and two emotionally messed up boys, one of whom refused to wake up so that she could talk to him.

Hermione liked to fix things. And if she was honest with herself, usually things involving Harry. He was like a little brother to her, despite the fact they were so close in age. She felt like she had to take care of him. God knows the Dursleys never did. That's why Hermione looked to John now. Maybe she could fix this. Harry didn't know how to give up; she didn't know how to fail.

"You want me to think it's about sex. You want Harry to think it's about sex. Because as long as it's about sex, as long as your connection to someone is only surface deep, only meaningless, you won't get hurt."

* * *

><p>And if the know-it-all didn't hit the nail on the head. Not that John would admit it, even to himself. Though he supposed he just did.<p>

"That's no way to live," Hermione continued. John understood why Harry needed someone like this to be his friend. Just like John needed someone who could give as good as he got and knock some sense into him, often literally. But John wasn't Harry and John didn't do this talking thing except on late night excursions for alcohol with Bobby.

"That's the only way to live," John refuted. But he wasn't annoyed anymore. Hermione was trying to protect Harry and John knew he could never do that. He continued, partially surprising even himself. "Nothing ever stays good for long. Everyone gives up." He left out the rest of the statement: 'on me.'

She looked sadly at him, almost pitying him. "Don't pity me," he snapped.

"I don't pity you," she said. "I feel sad for you."

"Same difference," John replied shortly.

Hermione sighed again. John had been told many times that talking to him was like talking to a brick wall. That's why people always got frustrated with him. That's why everyone always gave up on him. Admittedly, Xavier, Scott, nor Bobby had yet. But John knew it was only a matter of time before he did something stupid and ruined that. Ruined the only good thing he ever had. Maybe not the only thing. But John had already screwed that one up.

"Anyone ever tell you that you have abandonment issues?" she finally questioned bluntly.

No one ever had. Even Bobby didn't get why John chased away every girlfriend Bobby ever had. And despite what Harry would think, it wasn't because he wanted Bobby for himself. Well not in that way. It was because the moment Bobby found something better (not a hard task when comparing anything to little Johnny Allerdyce), he would toss John to the side. John's mother had proven that when she ran off with the milkman. Okay, not the milkman, the local crack dealer, but milkman sounded better on multiple levels.

When he didn't answer, Hermione continued. John could imagine her actually talking to a brick wall. "Well, you do. An inferiority complex as well. Maybe on par with Harry's, though you deal with it in different ways."

No, Bobby was the one with the inferiority complex. John _knew_ he was trash, had since he was little. His neighbors knew it, his classmates knew it, even his teachers. But the moment John had discovered his mutation, it didn't matter anymore. He was the powerful one now. The superior race. He was a god.

Hermione continued to stare at him but he refused to respond anymore. Maybe it was childish but he hoped that, if he was quiet long enough, she would leave. John just wanted to sit there, creepily watching Harry until he was awake and John could confirm he was okay. Then John would be gone. Or as gone as he could be while being trapped in the same house. He owed that to Harry.

What had Ron said to him shortly before Hermione had walked in? "Whatever it is that's going on with you and my best mate, stop it. You know you're not good enough for him." And then Ron had returned to watching Harry as if he hadn't said anything at all.

The thing was, John knew Harry was too noble, too nice for him. Too caring. Just too everything. But John had always been a selfish bastard; he knew he'd end up pursuing Harry again. It was only a matter of time. John may have had a power that no one was stupid enough not to fear, but he was weak. He was his mother's son, just as his father had told him. His mother was a druggie who couldn't keep her legs closed. And him? He wasn't too far from the mark.

Nevertheless, because he was St. John Allerdyce he replied, "Aw, are you jealous that you're 'best mate' rather be fucking me than spending any time with you?" Even if that statement wasn't quite true.

John was brought back from his recollections by Hermione's next attempted insight. "He would never leave you, you know? Not if you both just accept that you're falling in love with each other."

John looked at her and said more confidently than he felt, "I'm a runaway and a street kid. I don't love and I won't stick around. I always move on eventually." Not to mention that, from what he had learned about Harry, Harry was hell bent on running head first into any danger he could find. As much as John caused trouble or started with people, he had always been cautious. He needed to back when his dad beat him so badly he had to take a week off of school and when he was a small thirteen year old kid on the streets. Harry may have been the-Boy-Who-Refused-to-Lie-Down-and-Die, or whatever other ridiculous name the wizarding world had chosen for him, but he didn't seem to understand the concept of self-preservation. John liked to call Bobby a martyr because Bobby never put himself first but John feared that there was a high chance that Harry _would_ die a martyr's death. Then where would that leave John?

Hermione gazed at him as if trying to see through him. "I think you're more scared that you'll be the one left behind."

John refused to respond to that, just turned his head to watch Harry breathe in and out; he never thought that motion would be so reassuring. Hermione seemed to have said all that which she had came to say. So they sat there in silence.

John didn't know how long he had sat there but a small noise brought him out of whatever daze he was in. "What?" he asked Hermione. He must've been out of it and didn't quite hear what she said.

She looked at him curiously. "You said something," John clarified.

Hermione shook her head. "No, I didn't."

The noise came again and John suspected he knew where it was coming from. He stood as his eyes landed on Harry who had started moving a bit. Whether he was moving in his sleep or waking up, this was the first time Harry had moved in two days.

Hermione had also stood. "Madame Pomfrey said he should be out for a few more days," she said as if Harry waking up was a bad thing.

Harry turned his head in their direction and his eyes opened slowly. "Can't see," he mumbled. For one wild second, John thought Harry had gone blind, but, as Hermione rushed to the bedside table, John realized that Harry only needed his glasses. "Johnny?" he asked as Hermione handed him his glasses. Harry's eye-sight wasn't quite bad enough for him to have mistaken Hermione for John at that close of a distance. But John supposed Harry was still dazed. There was another possibility which John refused to think about. Nevertheless, the words _people go crazy from prolonged exposure to the Cruciatus Curse_, ran through his head.

"He's over there near the wall, Harry," Hermione said softly.

Harry put on his glasses, "'Mione?"

Hermione smiled and nodded. "How do you feel?"

"Like I just went a round with a Dark Lord and got myself tortured. Wait I did," Harry shot Hermione a weak grin.

Hermione let out an undignified squeal and practically threw herself on the bed to hug Harry. He winced but Hermione didn't seem to notice until he finally spoke up, "Maybe a little too rough, eh?"

Watching all this, John knew he should've left but he had to make sure Harry was okay. Harry's eyes finally traveled past Hermione and landed on John. He looked at John for a moment, confused as if not expecting him to be there. And despite the fact that John's name had been the first thing out of his mouth, it was clear Harry had not forgotten the other night. Harry did not so much as acknowledge him, only turning back to his friend.

"I'll go get Lupin or something," John mumbled, more to himself than anything. John knew he had done the right thing. Ended things before they got too serious, before John had the chance to fall hard and then fuck things up. Better to fuck things up now than later.


	16. The Only One that Can Get Through to Him

_Mutant Son_

**Chapter Sixteen: The Only One that Can Get Through to Him**

Approximately a week and a half after Harry had woken up, he was still sore. Admittedly, he felt a lot better than he had those first few days. Still, he was used to magical, well magically, fixing everything. He thought he would be able to deal better with the soreness if it weren't for the headache. But Harry wasn't completely sure whether the headache was a result of his injuries or the constant coddling he was receiving from Mrs. Weasley, Hermione, and even Ron.

Harry had mostly avoided being alone in a room with Hermione because, a day or so after he had woken up, she had brought up the topic of John. He wasn't going to deal with that right now. Maybe not ever. John wasn't the only one who didn't forgive.

Today, however, Harry had somehow convinced everyone that he could indeed manage to sleep without someone watching over him. The only privacy he had gotten lately was in the bathroom. That's why he made his showers longer than usual. Though that didn't stop Ron or Hermione from knocking on the door to make sure he was alive/conscious.

Needless to say, instead of using this privacy to sleep, he just basked in being alone. He had too much of a headache to read anything about the Horcruxes but even sitting in silence was enough at the moment. Suddenly, Hedwig flew through his open window. She hopped over with a letter, in a muggle envelope funny enough. Harry didn't know any muggles anymore, besides the Dursleys that is, and he doubted that the Dursleys had written him a letter.

However, as he gave Hedwig a short pet and grabbed the letter, it became obvious that it wasn't for him. The envelope read: _St. John Allerdyce_. That would explain why Hedwig had been gone for two weeks. The only people John knew were in Westchester. A trans-Atlantic trip would take some time for an owl, Harry suspected. Harry wanted to be mad but hadn't he told John to use Hedwig? Even if that was before his birthday.

Harry had no choice. He supposed he could take the coward's way out and make someone else give John the letter but Harry refused to let John think he was hiding. Though Harry suspected that the reason Harry hadn't seen John since he woke up was because John was locking himself in his room. John had even scared Mrs. Weasley away when she had gotten tired of him not eating with them, though Harry wasn't exactly sure what John said to her.

Sighing, Harry heaved himself out of bed and down the hall to John's room. He knocked on the door but there was no answer. Annoyed, Harry tried the door which was of course locked. But Harry was a wizard not a mutant and that wouldn't stop him. A quick Alohamora did the job.

John was at his desk scribbling away at something, though he stopped and looked up when Harry entered. He didn't say anything and just returned to his writing.

"You've got a letter," Harry said as neutrally as possible. "Came in with Hedwig."

John looked up and Harry could see that, despite his attempt at nonchalance, he really wanted that letter. Harry was going to just leave it but since John didn't seem to want him there, he decided to stick around. Even if it was petty to do so.

Harry sat on the corner of John's bed, still holding the letter. John went back to his writing without commenting.

"You do realize that you cheated on me, right? Not the other way around," Harry said lightly.

"You need to be in a relationship to be cheating." Still John didn't turn around.

"I guess I should be relieved, you know? Saved me the trouble of breaking it off myself," Harry continued though this wasn't true at all.

John scoffed and turned. "Come on, like you were going to do that. Not when I can make you feel the way I do."

"And what's that?"

John didn't answer the question right away, but he smirked. Harry refused to move, even when John walked over to him and leaned so one knee was balanced on Harry's right and his body was partially over Harry's. He brought his mouth to Harry's ear, nearly touching. He lingered. "This," he whispered before moving away slightly so that he could look into Harry's eyes. Emerald green met blue-grey.

Harry had to admit, he was trying to keep his breath even, but being this close to John always made that difficult. Harry thought he was succeeding and thought John thought so too, because John pushed harder. He moved his hand up Harry's leg and Harry looked at John disinterestedly. This was a game. This had always been a game.

John smirked again. "Your eyes say no but something lower is saying yes." John was right of course but Harry held his place. It was a battle of wills, a kind of battle Harry rarely lost. John hooked his finger around the belt loop of Harry's jeans. "I'd help you with that but I've gotten tired of giving favors with nothing in it for me. That guy…he had a lot more experience than you and quite a talented mouth."

And John had hit one of Harry's insecurities about their relationship, that he wasn't pulling his weight so to speak. But John had never seemed to mind, seemed to get off just as much, even if by his own hand at times. Tired of the game, Harry got up, pushing John so that John stumbled a few steps back.

Harry glared at John's smirk. "You happy?" he said angrily. "You hurt me. Congratulations. Join the club. Your father would be proud."

And he stormed away.

* * *

><p>Harry had dropped the letter. John didn't pick it up right away, instead running his hand through his hair, letting out a ragged breath. If it wasn't for the fact that John had played similar games in the past, Harry probably would've won. John couldn't help but be impressed. That added another point to the 'Why I want to fuck Harry Potter' list that he had secretly been keeping in his head. Though the more proper name for the list would probably just be 'Why I want Harry Potter,' because John knew he wanted more than that.<p>

Finally, John picked up the letter. He recognized Bobby's handwriting though he didn't expect anyone else's. John felt a weird combination of relief and trepidation. He hadn't waited for Bobby's advice, just jumped in and made a certified St. John Allerdyce decision.

John tore the letter open, sitting on his bed (the same spot as Harry had been he noticed) to read the letter. It was longer than his which was weird since Bobby hated writing.

_Johnny,_

_Hah! You finally realized that you'll always be Johnny to me. Win for me. And also, an owl! I nearly had a heart attack but she (I think she's a she) seemed to like the fact that I may or may not have frozen a few things. All mine, don't glare. _

_Now that I've lightened the mood, there are more serious topics. For one and really most importantly though you seemed to only mention it in passing, I'm sorry you had to kill again. I really am. I know you still have nightmares about it. And I think you're hurting more than you're letting on. I'm glad Harry's there since I'm not. I know you, if someone doesn't calm you down, you do stupid things._

_On the topic of Harry, I'm really not laughing at you (honestly, no need to burn anything), but I am surprised. I knew it was bound to happen one day. And you actually swore loyalty to him? I've put in more years with you and I don't even get that. You must be falling hard._

_John, I don't know if this is a problem. I don't know if it would be a mistake to end things or a mistake to continue it. And really? You saw sad eyes and fucked up and you still decided to play with him? That's cold. Whatever you do, try to avoid something that's bound to cause him or you pain. In other words, avoid you're usual approach. Please don't give him anymore issues. If you're falling for him that must mean that he's a good guy. You wouldn't be falling for him otherwise. Saying that, he doesn't deserve a broken heart._

_On the other hand, if he is as messed up as you seem to suggest, are you sure it's a good idea? John, no offense, but you're pretty messed up yourself. Actually a lot. But I don't think you realize that that doesn't make you a bad guy. You do deserve happiness. I just worry that adding someone just as messed up as you to the equation may end badly. Or some other, stronger simile. Think of one yourself. Then again, maybe he'll be able to relate to you in a way I can't, even though I want to._

_John, you don't need me, but you do need someone to talk to you, to comfort you. Also, you do realize that I wouldn't have so many dysfunctional relationships if you didn't sabotage all of them. God only knows why you do. But I guess they're not worth it if they don't stick around._

_Anyway, I'm trying (and when I say trying I mean I'm almost throwing Allerdyce worthy temper tantrums here) to get Xavier to get someone over there to let you come home for at least a day. That fire powder thing seemed to work fast enough. I miss you and I think you might need to get out of there, to actually be able to think. Like I said, I'm pushing really hard. Try pushing on your end. Seriously there's only so long they can separate us. I mean who's supposed to melt all the things I accidentally freeze and I can only imagine what you burn without me to put your fires out._

_-Bobby_

_P.S. It's amazing how much easier it is to talk to you when you're not trying to burn me or belittle me when you don't like something I say._

Amazingly, John's first thought was that Bobby couldn't follow one line of thought for his life. And people called John ADD? And unlike both John and, to a certain degree, Harry, Bobby said what he felt which often made John uncomfortable. Which is also why John tended to burn or bully Bobby. While he thought about Bobby's advice, really what he focused on was a chance to go home. Even if just for a little while.

It was with this thought that he propelled himself downstairs. He practically barged into the dining room, surprised to find it full before realizing that it was dinner time. Everyone looked up at him, most surprised, though Ron and Harry looked annoyed. But John found who he was looking for. Lupin was sitting at the opposite side of the table next to his wife, who was sporting orange hair today. Like fire. Maybe he'd die his hair some time.

"I want to go home," John said to Lupin bluntly. Remus looked surprised.

"John, you know it's not safe—"

But John wouldn't let him finish. "Not for good. Just for a day. Or two. I'm going stir crazy and when I go stir crazy I start burning things. Besides, I know Bobby's asked Xavier to ask you guys." John waved the letter he had forgotten to leave in his room.

"St. John, I don't think that's a good idea, dear," the mother Weasley put in. John didn't know whether he liked her. She kept trying to mother him. It was a new and odd experience. He suspected that Harry also felt that way. John had seen how uncomfortable Harry sometimes got.

Lupin on the other hand seemed to be thinking about it. "Molly, I don't see what harm one day could do. Voldemort hasn't seemed to make much progress—"

"That we know of," Mrs. Weasley interjected. "It's too dangerous. Too much of a risk."

Lupin seemed to overrule her, however. "I'll ask Minerva what she thinks. Molly, can you imagine what it would feel like being away from home so long? John is very close to Bobby."

John risked taking a look at Harry, remembering their conversation on John's feelings towards Bobby. Harry was glaring down at his plate. Well, that was something.

Not even twenty-four hours later, John was flooing into Xavier's office. Bobby and the Professor were waiting for him. He looked around the room.

"Scott's in class," Bobby informed him. "I got special permission to skip."

Xavier smiled warmly at John. "Welcome home. It has been a little too," he paused, "quiet since you left us."

John almost smiled at Xavier. Almost. Instead he looked at Bobby and Bobby looked at him. They were always bad at this. With other people, Bobby would excitedly hug them but with him—

And then he was being hugged quite roughly by one Bobby Drake. "Drake, watch the ice," he warned as he began to get goose bumps.

"Oh, yeah," Bobby said, pulling away. He sent a goofy smile at John and, for once, it didn't make his stomach do that weird queasy thing which seemed to be especially reserved for Harry these days.

Bobby and John didn't talk much the rest of the day. They played a lot of foosball and no one really bothered them. It helped that the general student populace disliked John almost as much as they liked Bobby. Even Rogue had enough respect to leave them be. Later, they convinced Storm to pick up Chinese food for them, which they promptly ate from the carton as they sat at the kitchen island. John suspected there would be a repeat performance later in the night, though with ice cream.

It was just them. "You know…you did what you had to do," Bobby said without looking at John.

"I'm not a telepath, Bobby," John rolled his eyes. Bobby tended to start conversations as if people would automatically know what he was talking about.

"That Death Eater," Bobby stated, finally looking at John. His eyes were sincere. "You were protecting someone."

It was John's turn to look away. Why did Bobby insist on talking about shit like this? "There was another option, Iceman," he sighed.

"Yeah, there was," Bobby agreed, surprising John. He expected Bobby to lie to him. "But," ah there it was, "sometimes you don't have the chance to think about it. How many people do you think Scott or Storm killed instead of taking out because there was no time to think?"

John nodded. It made sense though it didn't make John feel any better. John knew that the incident would be re-playing in his dreams tonight, maybe with Harry, pale and lifeless making an appearance just for the hell of it.

"So…" Bobby started when they ran out of food. "Are you going to tell me about Harry or will I have to settle for sad eyes, messy hair to match his messed up life, and possible savior?"

"Doesn't matter," John said with false passivity. "That's over and done with."

Bobby seemed to evaluate him before sighing. "You did something stupid, didn't you?" he finally asked.

"No, I—" John paused. "Well, yeah." Bobby waited for him to continue. "I kinda got drunk and then got laid which—"

"You didn't do something stupid! You did something moronic!"

"Same thing, Drake," John said as Bobby glared. "Look I know. Believe me, I know. But better now than—"

"Later?" Bobby questioned and John started to get annoyed with his constant interruption.

"I need alcohol to deal with you," John sighed, resting his head on the table as if dealing with Bobby really was that hard.

"I bought you cigarettes if that helps? I figured you had to be running low." In that moment, John decided Bobby was a god and almost regretted every bad thing he said to Bobby. And there were a lot. John had been stuck with a cigarette a day for way too long.

Bobby laughed at his look. "Roof?" Bobby asked. John nodded and they made their way to their bedroom (where Bobby grabbed a pack of cigarettes), out the window, and up the garden wall, onto the roof.

They took their usual spots, lying side by side, almost close enough for their arms to touch, but not quite. John eagerly grabbed the cigarettes from Bobby and lit one up. He took a slow drag. He was such an addict. But better cigarettes than other things, he supposed.

Bobby watched him for a moment before looking up at the sky, where a few stars were poking out from behind the clouds. John remembered the night that Bobby pointed out every constellation he could remember and John told Bobby the story or myth the constellation came from. It was probably still his favorite memory and that had been two years ago.

"So?" Bobby asked again. From the corner of his eye, John saw Bobby turn his head to look at him. John took another drag and slowly pushed out the smoke, gathering his thoughts.

"Looks or personality?"

"Both, I guess. I need to get an idea of the guy who hooked the infamous Pyro," Bobby was probably smiling but John still kept his eyes to the sky.

He took a breath. "Harry's got these really green eyes. And I mean really green. Practically emerald green. Messy hair as I said. Lean build, a bit shorter than me. He almost always looks intense, or sad

Apparently he likes to shower with his clothes on. Likes my power. Deals with most of my shit. Sometimes he seems to think it's funny. He doesn't laugh quite enough but when he does…" John trailed off, unsure how to describe it. "His friends are ridiculously loyal to him. Like accompany him to Mordor loyal. He's a natural leader but he doesn't want to lead. But I guess he can't help it." John let out a short laugh. "He actually told the Order that he'd trust me with his life. Crazy, huh?"

Bobby shook his head. "Not so crazy." John kind of knew Bobby would say that but John had always thought Bobby was a little insane.

"He's definitely not perfect. Rarely knows what to say, puts himself down. Total hot-head. And not in a bad temper kind of way, though there's certainly that." This time John turned to look at Bobby. "You know, that night? The one when I got drunk and, you know—actually it was Harry's birthday," he said on a side note. He winced. Shouldn't have said that.

Bobby looked at him incredulously. "You cheated on him on his birthday?"

"Yeah, I know. Keep your ice in check. We're on a fucking roof top. Anyway, that night, their Ministry-did you know that there's a Ministry of Magic?—was attacked. The Order went, Harry included. Apparently he went up against my father. Got his ass kicked—Harry I mean. My father…" John swallowed. "He tortured Harry. But he survived. Tricked the son of a bitch and warded him off long enough to get away.

I thought Harry was dead. Totally freaked out. But their witch doctor healed him, said that he should be okay. You know I didn't leave his bedside for three days? And then he woke up. He said my name, first thing he said. He's still angry though, obviously. He actually almost won our battle of wills—"

Bobby cut him off. "Battle of wills?" he asked suspiciously.

John swallowed. He really shouldn't have mentioned that. "I might've messed with him or something." John had only been trying to scare Harry away. And possibly re-assert, at least in his own mind, that he was still Pyro and no one fucked with Pyro.

Bobby shook his head in disbelief. "Don't tell me. Really don't wanna know. Anyway is that it? Done with the gushing?"

"I don't gush," John glared.

"Sure you don't," Bobby responded sarcastically. "Moving on though. I still think you're an idiot. Did you hear yourself? You sounded happy. Why do you insist on being miserable? If you don't apologize and fix things when you get back, I'm going to freeze certain assets of yours. And not like the time I froze your boxers. Just saying."

* * *

><p>Hermione had finally done it. She had him locked alone in a room with her. Harry could've gotten past her with a few choice spells but that would've probably been over the top. Plus, he was in the shower of all places, not that she could see through the shower curtain. He thought about making a crack about Ron getting suspicious. But he could actually feel the look she was sending at the curtain. The one usually reserved for the times he put off his Potions homework until the morning before. Only this once had extra strength in it.<p>

"I don't appreciate being avoided," she said over the sound of water.

"Do you really think this is the place for this?" he tried. Hearing no response, he went along with it.

"What do you mean?" he asked. "I've seen you a lot the past week and a half." Perhaps too much, but he didn't say that.

"Don't play dense."

"I thought I _was_ dense." He wished he could see her face. Then maybe he could gauge how annoyed she was with him. That small smile she could never hold back was her tell.

"And I'm not going to get side-tracked."

Harry sighed. Damn. "This is about John, isn't it?" he asked glumly.

Now her voice was sad. When it came to Harry, she seemed to interchange between sad, fed up, and proud. Often in the same conversation.

"You know his name was the first thing you said?" she asked gently.

"Thought you were him," he tried the excuse.

"Oh, that's flattering. Now I'm a guy. Admittedly, an attractive guy…" Harry hoped for a second for a reprieve. But Hermione continued. "Did you know he was at your bedside?"

"I noticed," Harry responded. "Saw him with my own two eyes, in fact."

"No, I mean," she paused and Harry hated to admit that he was listening closely through the rushing of water. "The whole time, Harry. He didn't leave. Didn't eat and barely slept. Maybe if you two could just—"

"Hermione," he cut in, angry again. "He cheated on me."

"I know," he barely heard her.

"You know?" he asked slowly, not believing her. How could she not understand that he had betrayed Harry? Harry never should have let him in.

"Yes," her voice was stronger. "He told me in fact. Tried to tell me it was about sex. And when I told him that he was just scared of being hurt, he didn't correct me. You know he has issues, Harry. Think for a second. From what we know of him, who in his life ever stuck around? Been there for him?"

"Bobby," Harry said darkly.

"Who he doesn't seem to fully trust either. You should've heard him. Claiming that he didn't need anyone, that he doesn't love. It was all said with too much bravado is you ask me."

"I didn't," Harry snapped. He knew she was asking for him to forgive John. So what if John was scared of getting hurt? So was Harry. People had a nasty habit of dying on him. And what gave John the right to lash out at him? What gave John the right to wait at the side of his bed like that anyway? Especially after what he did.

"Don't be mean Harry," she said softly. He could feel the empathy rolling off of her. "It doesn't suit you."

"Yeah, but it suits John, doesn't it?"

Hermione sighed but said nothing.

Harry hated himself for asking his next question. "Did he really not leave? At all?"

"Not once," Hermione responded. "And you should've seen him when he saw that you were hurt. He was so scared. Yet he tried comforting me, until he seemed to lose the ability to stand. You did that Harry. Or rather his fear for you."

Harry wanted to say that John couldn't stand because he was still drunk, but he didn't feel like speaking at that moment. John had comforted Hermione? Earlier in the day, it seemed as if he had even provided Hermione with advice. And John had been that scared?

"How do you—" Harry had to clear his throat. "How do you know that he was scared?"

"I don't know. The frantic way he tried to get my attention? Possibly that look on his face? I could practically see how John would've looked like as a kid."

Harry nodded even though he knew that Hermione couldn't see him. Harry's feelings towards John hadn't changed. Even after John had played with him yesterday. Chased Harry away, he realized. But he couldn't forgive John. Could he?

"Listen, Harry, I'll leave you alone," Hermione finally said. Which was good, Harry guessed, seeing as his fingers had long gone pruny. And he was running out of hot water. "But Harry, I view you as a little brother. I just want you to be happy. I think that's all that older siblings want. Well, unless you're Sirius who—"

The look on Sirius' face when he spoke about his younger brother, Regulus, flashed across Harry's mind. Harry froze. "Wait. Do you realize what you just said?"

He could hear her confusion. "I just want you to be happy?"

"No, about Sirius. He had a brother." When there wasn't a response, Harry continued on his train of thought. "I think I just figured out who R.A.B. is."

Hermione gasped. "Of course."

Regulus Arcturus Black. Little brother to one Sirius Black.


	17. Not Homework After All

_Mutant Son_

A.N. Hopefully the next few updates will com faster than this one. I visited home this weekend and was pretty busy. Also, I know I have John think about his relationship with Bobby a lot, but I figure that we actually see Harry interact with the people he cares about. John is basically alone to develop new relationships. It's no wonder he thinks about Bobby often. Finally, I've decided to go along with the DH Horcrux scenes but only generally as I do not feel comfortable copying dialogue from a book. Plus John's added in. Also fiendfyre makes another appearance here. To my understanding fiendfyre can only be _controlled_ by a powerful witch or wizard. While I do think Harry would be able to cast and control it successfully, I think it would take him practice.

**Chapter 17: Not Really Homework After All **

John had really needed that day and night at Xavier's. It was just nice to go back to something so familiar and so much less complicated than things here. Even if the students at Xavier's disliked him, he still belonged there. It was home.

After speaking to Bobby, John was still confused. Should he ignore Bobby's advice all together? Should he apologize to Harry and try to pick things up from where they left off? John didn't actually know _how_ to apologize. Bobby always just knew when John was sorry, even if John tried to act like he had done nothing wrong.

At other times though, John did put the effort into apologizing. He just couldn't ever get it out. Like that time John had kissed a girl Bobby was going out with just to prove to Bobby that she wasn't worth it. That fight had lasted longer than most. Even their usual fire-ice battle of wills hadn't solved it. One day John just sat on the edge of Bobby's desk flicking his lighter as Bobby tried to do homework. It was a testament to how mad Bobby was at him that Bobby didn't snap at him. Later, John snuck out and borrowed one of Scott's cars (needless to say without permission as he didn't have his license at the time). When he returned, he came bearing a carton of chocolate fudge brownie ice cream and the name/number of the girl at the grocery story that Bobby thought was cute. Bobby was still up attempting to finish his homework. John put both on the desk. Bobby had looked the ice cream, back up at him, and then smiled. As they ate through Bobby's newly acquired ice cream, they debated over whether Bobby would call the cashier or not. He hadn't but for one odd reason or another, Bobby had kept the number.

Now, John was back at Headquarters being greeted by Lupin, Tonks, and Mrs. Weasley, contemplating whether Harry liked ice cream. Or anything as much as Bobby liked ice cream. "Did you have fun, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked, attempting to wipe some soot off of John's shoulder.

John offered a non-committed shrug, while not so subtly avoiding her touch.

Tonks eyed the bag John had brought with him. "What's in the bag?"

John raised his eyebrows. "Nothing dangerous. Unless you're one of those book burning people."

"I'd think you'd like burning something that so easily goes up in flame," Lupin smiled.

John looked at him like he was crazy. "Never books." He had also brought back a carton of cigarettes but he doubted they needed to know that. Mrs. Weasley had already attempted to take away a pack before.

"The other three are upstairs, St. John," Mrs. Weasley practically shooed him. "I'm sure Harry will be happy to see you." Somehow he doubted it. Though he supposed Hermione at least might be happy.

John nodded before wandering upstairs. He noticed that the library door was shut, which usually meant that the Golden Trio was researching whatever it was that they researched. And John doubted it was homework like they wanted John to think. Harry had already admitted to him that he wasn't going back.

Sighing, John continued past the door and to his room where he dropped his stuff off. Grabbing one of his well-loved books, John headed back downstairs to the living room, where he lit a fire (in the fireplace for once) and sat back to read.

John had apparently dozed off because the next thing he knew, raised voices were coming from the kitchen. He recognized Harry's voice, automatically making it his business, at least in his mind. When he entered the kitchen, he was greeted by a surprising scene.

A little grey thing, humanoid animal or something, was in the corner glaring. But more shockingly, Harry had his wand pointed at some man's throat. The man was backed up against the sink and Harry's face was angrier than John had ever seen it. Threatening even.

"Don't deny it," he practically growled. "I know you stole it. Bet you couldn't resist something so old. A Black heirloom you thought."

Harry was reacting like this because the man was a thief?

"I don't know what you're talking about," the man said breathlessly, obviously frightened. Harry pushed his wand into the man's throat.

From behind Harry, Ron said, "Come on, Dung. We won't harm you if you give us the locket."

The man, Dung, denied his thievery again. "I didn't take nothing."

Harry looked like he would do something drastic. He pushed his wand so hard into his throat that Dung let out a pained squeak of sorts.

"So you admit it," John inserted, taking a step closer to the four. He wasn't about to let Harry do something to the man. For Harry's sake, not the thief's. "That or you're a complete moron. Honestly 'I didn't take nothing'?"

John sent Harry a look, hoping he'd get what John was trying to do. "Who are you?" Dung asked, looking almost as if he'd forgotten his predicament.

Ron almost stopped him, but Harry nodded ever so slightly, moving away from Dung who looked rather relieved. But John had taken Harry's spot.

"Me?" John asked, forming his most evil smirk. John flicked his lighter and moved the flame against Dung's throat. John kept it a few inches from Dung, at a low heat. He wouldn't hurt the man unless he had to. "I'm the guy who's gonna enjoy this. A lot." John let the heat rise enough to make his point. John didn't need to be Voldemort's son to be scary as shit. His power, hell John himself was scary enough.

When Dung said nothing, John moved closer. "Alright! Alright!" Dung spluttered out. "I'll tell you!" But John didn't step back. The fire was just begging to be let free, for John to release his hold. John didn't notice Harry move closer until he had gently grabbed John's arm. John unlocked his gaze from Dung and looked over at Harry.

"John, step back," Harry ordered, but his eyes seemed to be evaluating John, though not in the way John was used to seeing. Harry wasn't trying to figure out how he could use him or what danger he posed. Instead, Harry was checking on him. Making sure that John was in control.

Finally, John backed off, turning from Dung. He kept his cool, leaning on the counter and lighting a cigarette. This way he didn't actually have to put the effort into putting out the fire. He pretended to inspect the cigarette before taking a drag. Three pairs of eyes were on him. Dung still looked frightened, Ron looked as if every suspicion he had of John was confirmed, and Hermione sent him a grateful look. He knew she was thanking him for his willingness to do something neither of them ever wanted Harry to do.

"Kreacher, get out of here," Harry said and the weird grey thing that John had momentarily forgotten about disappeared with a loud crack, mumbling under its breath. "Dung?" Harry asked expectantly.

"I sold it," he grunted. "To some Ministry hag." The man paused and John could practically see the greed in his eyes. "It worth something?"

"More than your life," Harry said coldly. John noticed that though Hermione and Ron stood on either side of Harry, they were only there for support, for back up. This was Harry's deal.

"What Ministry 'hag'?" Hermione asked, speaking for the first time.

Dung sent her a cursory glance before his eyes moved to John and back to Harry. He seemed to be evaluating the deep shit he was in. "She wore a lot of pink. Kind of looked like a toad actually. And irritating voice. Very irritating."

That didn't sound like much of description to John but Harry, Ron, and Hermione were now sending each other surprised yet knowing glances. "You better not be lying, Dung," Ron glared.

Dung threw his hands up. "I'm not. Swear," he looked warily at John. "Don't sick your attack dog on me."

Harry smiled ever so slightly, before his face became cold again. "Get out of here, Dung. And if I see you around again, it's not him you'll have to worry about." Relieved, Dung disapparated.

"Umbridge, huh?" Ron grunted.

"Seems so," Hermione confirmed. They both looked to Harry who was gazing at the floor, eyes furrowed in thought. "Harry?"

"This isn't going to be easy," Harry said, meeting her eyes. "We're going to have to infiltrate the Ministry. They'll have people on the lookout for me. Probably all Order members."

"They won't be on the lookout for me," John said, smoking his cigarette disinterestedly. But John matched Harry's intense look.

"You don't even know what you'd be doing this for," Hermione said surprised. Yeah, he knew he wasn't exactly self-sacrificing, but hell if he was going to let Harry put himself into unnecessary danger without John there to make sure that he didn't get killed.

"No, absolutely not," Ron said, almost cutting Hermione off. He sent Harry a frantic look. "He can't be trusted, Harry. I don't care what you're doing with him. You have to know he can't be trusted. He would've burnt Dung. And would've liked it."

Harry's eyebrows almost disappeared into his hair. Obviously he hadn't known that Ron had guessed at his relationship with John. But Harry skipped over the statement. "No, he wouldn't. He would've done what was necessary." Despite what John had done to Harry, Harry still had faith in him. That made John feel rather uncomfortable.

Ron spluttered but Hermione joined in. "Harry's right, Ron. John's on our side," she sent a reassuring look to first her boyfriend, then John. And hell if she wasn't becoming someone he liked a lot. He was getting soft. "Still, it's too dangerous, John. You can't do this. What if you got hurt? You're not a wizard."

"No, I'm a mutant," John sent her a stubborn look.

Hermione sighed but Harry seemed to think about it. "You can't go alone," he decided.

"Harry—"

"Mate—"

But Harry ignored them, his intense green eyes bearing into John's. "You don't know why you're doing this."

"Don't care," John responded, refusing to look away. Bobby was right. He had to fix things. "I want to help."

Harry looked questioningly at John, as if he couldn't believe his ears. John wasn't surprised. After all, John was no hero.

"This is what we do…"

* * *

><p>Harry leaned on the window sill, waiting for John in his room. After he had explained the plan, John had only nodded before disappearing. Harry didn't have to wait for long as John came into the room, book in hand. He stopped, looking at Harry warily, before shutting the door.<p>

"Surprised to see you here," John said lightly, placing his book on the desk. Harry couldn't tear his eyes off of John, even as John didn't meet his eyes, busying himself with something on his desk. Always a game, Harry thought. How could Harry be with someone who didn't want to trust him even a little bit? Hermione was crazy.

Nevertheless. "Why?" Harry got out. This time John did look at him and seemed to mull over his words.

"Because it's you," John said as if it were simple. And maybe it was to John. Harry couldn't even pretend to know how the guy's brain worked. Not like everyone else's, Harry was sure.

"What kind of answer is that?"

"A shitty one," John admitted. "Harry, I don't know." They were quiet for a little while. John took a small step forward as if thinking about going to him. Harry wasn't sure whether he wanted John to. "I spoke to Bobby."

"Good for you," Harry said sarcastically. "Finally get him into your bed?" Okay, that might not have been fair. John was honest with Harry about how he felt for Bobby. But Harry was still jealous and still angry enough to lash out.

John smiled. He didn't grin or smirk, but smiled. Harry's stomach turned uncomfortably. Traitor, he thought to his stomach. But he knew he wanted to see John smile again though his mind wanted to kick itself.

"Nah, actually we slept on the roof last night," John quipped before getting serious. "Harry, I don't want Bobby. I want you. And Bobby thinks I'm an idiot for trying to deny it. He's probably right. He usually is. Not that I'll ever tell him that."

Harry almost smiled. Almost. That reply was so John, even if the confession wasn't like John at all. "Then why?" Harry asked. He knew John would know what he was asking about.

John shrugged. "Self-destructive behavior?" John asked. He sighed. "Listen, Harry, that night. That guy? You know what I did? I took himto an empty room in the back of the bar. I pushed him against the wall. It was quick and dirty. Do you think I want that from you?"

John paused as if expecting Harry to answer. "Harry," John searched for the words. "Harry, you're better than that. But me? I'm like that guy. Only worth a fuck in a seedy bar."

Harry didn't get it. How could someone so confident think so little of himself? What had happened to him? John wasn't looking at him and Harry couldn't bring himself to broach the subject. If he said anything, he'd say the wrong thing. If he did anything…well, Harry was sure it would be a bad idea. He was still mad. Plus, if they did this, Harry wanted John to know he was worth more than that. At least to Harry.

"I'll see you tomorrow morning," Harry mumbled. John only nodded. Why did Harry just feel like he had done something wrong?

* * *

><p>"Are you sure no one can see you?" John practically muttered, hoping for the first time in his life that passers-by would only think him crazy.<p>

"Yes, relax. And only talk to me if you have to," Harry hissed from John's right. The seemingly empty space to John's right. This was weird.

John avoided a man who almost walked into him. If John almost got banged into on the streets of London and he was visible, how would Harry avoid them? He had decided some time after seeing the invisibility cloak in action that the plan was questionable. Sure Harry was invisible but even an invisible person would prove to be very solid in a crowd, which they were guaranteed to encounter at the Ministry.

But that was not the only thing. They had spent the days before fleshing out the plan. Sure, no one would be looking for John, but how could they get him close enough to Umbridge? Hermione had really come through with her knowledge of international wizarding politics.

Apparently, plenty of groups across the world were sympathetic to Voldemort, some more than others. John was posing as Zacharias Caphius, a member of a pureblood lobbyist group of sorts from within the Australian wizarding government. While the name was known, Caphius did not have connections outside of Australia. Ron had thought this perfect, seeming to think John's new character not too far from the truth.

Hermione had him drop the New York accent to see what he sounded like. "No offense meant, John," she had started. "But your accent…it's a little…well from more modest backgrounds than what we need."

John had smirked. "Too trailer trash, got it." Hermione had looked like she was going to argue, but decided against it. John spent the next hour trying to sophisticate his accent, something he found rather difficult. Finally he had settled for blending parts of Hermione's accent into his. He doubted anyone at the Ministry would be familiar enough with Australians to be able to spot the fake.

The plan was to set up a meeting with Umbridge, the head of the Muggle-Born Registration Commission, to discuss the muggle-born trials. To their surprise, they had received a quick response from Umbridge's secretary suggesting that John view their next trial. That complicated matters but if John could somehow get her to invite him into her office then perhaps he could find the locket.

The Golden Trio seemed sure that the locket would be in her office but John wasn't so sure. As far as he knew, people bought jewelry to wear it. He brought it up and, ever the Girl Scout, Hermione planned for the possibility.

Now it was the day of the trial and John was heading to the ministry with an invisible Harry. Ron and Hermione had wanted to come but Harry had overruled them, pointing out that only one of them could fit under the cloak. When Hermione had suggested Polyjuice Potion (whatever that was), Harry hadn't budged, stating that an hour would not be enough time.

John felt Harry give a small tug on his arm. Looking up, John spotted the telephone booth. Once they got to the booth, John opened the door, paused long enough for Harry to get in and then entered.

When they got into the Atrium it became clear that Voldemort was attempting the façade of normalcy. Workers were hurrying here and there, pausing to greet each other with tight smiles. And it was crowded. John hoped Harry could keep up.

Approaching the front desk, John put on a blank face and walked cockily towards it. Despite the fact that he was accustomed to cocky, this was a little more difficult. Rich and cocky, he kept reminding himself. He wasn't going for bad ass, but privileged.

When the wizard at the desk looked up, John waited for the man to address him. "What's your business?" the man appraised him with cold eyes.

"Meeting with Madam Umbridge," John stated lazily.

"Zacharias Caphius?" the man asked. John nodded. "If you'll just present your wand."

John sneered. "I'm not handing my wand over to you."

The wizard looked unimpressed. "Sir, no wizard can enter these walls without me checking their wand."

Harry nudged him. John had hoped to skip this part, just in case Hermione was wrong and someone would be able to tell that this wasn't his wand. Apparently Moody had been paranoid enough to have two wands, one of which was buried with him, the other which Lupin had placed in the library just in case. John doubted that this was the just in case Lupin had in mind.

Sighing, John handed over the wand. While the wizard studied it, John's eyes were caught by something, a poster with Harry's face on it labeled Undesirable No. 1. John held back a laugh but couldn't help but be impressed. It was so easy to forget how big of a deal Harry was. Despite the fact that John found Harry's classification of himself into Harry Potter and just Harry ridiculous, every once in a while John was reminded of how accurate it was.

The wizard studied the wand for a few moments before jotting something down and handing it back to him. Okay, so Hermione was right.

"Take the elevator to level nine. Someone will be waiting for you." Grabbing the wand, John did as the man said. Every once in a while he felt Harry make contact with him to let him know that he was still there.

When the elevator doors opened on level nine, John was greeted by one of the ugliest women he had ever seen. Short, squat, and wearing copious amounts of pink. She really did look like a toad. If toads were pink.

"Mr. Caphius," her voice was terribly high pitched. He moved to shake her hand.

"Madame Umbridge."

"If you'll just follow me," she said with a false smile. And then John saw it. The locket. Harry had seen it too. So it was time for Plan B.

Umbridge led John and Harry into what appeared to be a courtroom. The first thing John noticed was how cold it was. As they entered the room, Umbridge cast a spell and a white smoke-like cat emerged from her wand to follow her around. Harry let out a small hiss.

"Mr. Caphius, please take a seat," Umbridge gestured to the stands. John nodded and did so. As he sat, he felt Harry sit aside him.

"John," Harry whispered. John sent a look at Umbridge who hadn't seemed to hear from where she was speaking to a group in rather official looking robes. "Plan B."

"I figured," John wanted to roll his eyes. He wasn't an idiot.

"How are you going to switch the lockets once I get the other one to fall?" Harry asked curiously.

"Just watch and learn," John sent a small smirk to where he knew Harry was sitting.

He was about to say more when things got under way. "Bring her in," Umbridge ordered the guards before settling herself in her seat like a queen. She sent a small smile to the man on her left. "This one dares to bring another abomination into our world."

The doors opened and a guard escorted a pregnant woman in. They were putting a pregnant woman on trial for being born to muggles? That was ridiculous. John felt Harry tense beside him. He hoped that all went well for this woman, Mary Cattermole, because John doubted that Harry would sit back if it didn't.

John watched Umbridge question Mrs. Cattermole, eying her, the smoky cat, and the locket interchangeably. The woman didn't stand a chance. As the questioning continued, John felt increasingly colder. It felt as if a sudden bout of depression had settled over him, but he ignored it as he felt Harry fidget beside him.

It seemed as if the questioning was winding down. Mrs. Cattermole was losing and it looked as if her baby was to be born in prison.

"I can't just sit here," Harry finally hissed. John felt Harry getting up and went to push him down. "John, you can't stop me."

But John knew that. "I'm not," he whispered. "'Just wait until I get the locket. Then you can go play hero." John imagined that Harry was glaring at him, but, nevertheless, Harry sat.

The trial was finally over and the guards dragged Mrs. Cattermole over to the other convicted muggle-borns. Umbridge stood and John went to meet her.

"Now," John hissed through the side of his mouth. As John approached her, he saw her locket slowly and silently fall, practically float, to the ground.

"What do you think, Mr. Caphius?" Umbridge asked sweetly. She better not be flirting with him, John thought. "Was the trial to your liking?"

John gave a charming smile though it was the last thing he wanted to do. He felt like he was moving through molasses already and she sickened him. "It won't be to my liking until I see them put to death," he responded.

"All in good time," she smiled again. John moved the fake locket into his hand before turning his eyes to the locket on the ground.

"Did you drop something?" he asked innocently, kneeling to pick up the locket. His hand tingled for a moment as he made contact with the locket. It faded, however and, deftly, he adjusted the two lockets in his hand before holding the fake locket out in front of him.

"Oh," she let out, putting her hand to her neck. "I did. Thank you." She grabbed the fake necklace and, without bothering to look at it more closely she went to put it on. Success.

John knew Harry was about to do something drastic. Did he have a plan? How was he going to get that woman out? Knowing Harry, however, John suspected that they would be getting all the prisoners in the room out. They wouldn't be able to do that without a confrontation. John palmed his lighter.

Once she was finished fastening the locket, Umbridge's eyes returned to John's, sending him another sickening smile. "I must say, Mr. Caphius, I did expect someone older."

"I just look young for my age," John responded easily, eying the prisoners. He didn't know whether Harry was still standing next to him. There was no way to do this discreetly. They would have to use the element of surprise. That meant something stupid.

Umbridge followed his gaze. "Nasty, aren't they? Believing themselves to be one of us. Not recognizing our superiority." She sent the prisoners a look as if they were something nasty she had stepped on. "I can't understand how they could think they deserve to stand in the same room as someone like me. Can you?"

"Oh, I don't know Professor," Harry's voice said from beside John before he whipped the invisibility cloak off. "He mustn't tell lies."

"Potter?" she screeched. All eyes were on them. "Get him you fools!"

And then spells were flying. As Harry went on the offensive, John flicked his lighter and grew the fire large enough to separate them from most of the other wizards.

"John!" Harry shouted. "The prisoners!"

John manipulated the flame so that the prisoners too were cut off from the other wizards, leaving them, John, Harry, Umbridge, and five other wizards.

Disarming one of the wizards, Harry shouted to the prisoners, "Run!" Harry pushed John towards the exit and the two of them ran behind the prisoners towards the doors.

One witch stunned. Another nursing burns. Umbridge sent out a curse which Harry blocked before he disarmed her. And then it felt as if John was in a pool of icy water, an experience his status as Iceman's best friend made him quite familiar with.

"_Worthless! You're no son of mine! Trash just like your mother!"_

"_Such a pretty mouth—"_

"_Mutie-freak! I'll teach you a lesson."_

John felt like his head would explode. He almost stopped running but his sense of self preservation kicked in. He ran, ignoring the voices in his head. Harry and he skidded into the elevator behind the prisoners. John could no longer see the wizards as tall robed figures seemed to fly directly at them. Taking a deep breath, John launched a stream of fire, but it did nothing.

"Expecto Patronum," Harry said. Faint white smoke emerged from his wand. The robed beings got closer and John moved to make sure that Mary Cattermole was behind him.

"Expect Patronum!" John practically jumped as a blinding white figure burst forth from Harry's wand. John briefly spotted antlers before the robed figures began to flee and the elevator began to move.

Breathing roughly, Harry turned.

"You're Harry Potter," someone gasped.

"Congratulations," John sneered. "You have eyes." Harry sent him a look that clearly said 'Not now'.

"Here's the plan," Harry breathed. "We get out and we act like we belong. Make your way to the floo and get out. Run. Don't return home. Find some other way to contact your families."

"Get back under your cloak," John ordered but Harry shook his head.

"Harder to fight," he looked at John. "We might have to. I don't know how fast word will get out that I'm here. That they've escaped. That you're not who you said you are."

"I'll fight," John said firmly. "You're more easily recognized. Just…Harry it's safer this way."

"Fuck safe."

John wanted to argue but he recognized a fruitless fight. The elevator stopped and they walked out into the crowd, moving surely towards the floo grates. John wanted to tell Harry to keep his head down but he knew that they both had to keep an eye out for possible danger.

And then, from behind them, "Get them!"

Neither Harry nor John took the time to see who had shouted. They pushed the muggle-borns in front of them towards the floo. "Run," John told them. They did so without hesitation. Mrs. Cattermole struggled with her too pregnant frame. The other prisoners had already pushed through the crowd. There was nothing John or Harry could do to help them. It was now up to them to get themselves out.

"Stay with me," he grabbed Mrs. Cattermole's hand. Spells started to fly from all directions as people laid eyes on Harry. "Harry—"

"Guard the back, got it."

John used the flame to force a path in the crowd. He put up two flame barriers on either side of them. Now he could worry about the front as Harry worried about the back. They only had a couple of hundred feet to go. A hundred. Fifty.

"Fuck," Harry grunted from behind them. John almost stopped. "Keep going! It's only a cut." So John kept running, half supporting Mrs. Cattermole.

Finally they made it, sliding into the floo grate.

* * *

><p>"So, what now?" John asked from his place watching Hermione heal Harry. Harry didn't understand why they both made such a big deal about a little blood.<p>

Glancing down at his arm briefly, Harry responded, "Destroy it."

"Right," John nodded looking between Ron, Hermione, and Harry. "It's so gaudy it must be destroyed."

Hermione smiled but Harry rolled his eyes. Ron glared at John. Despite the integral role John had played in getting the locket, Ron still wasn't happy with him being there. Seeing that no one was going to answer him, "Right. So I'll just be going then."

"No," Ron said, surprisingly. "You're not done yet."

Harry looked at Ron curiously who met his gaze. John looked crossed between amused and annoyed.

"While you two were gone," Hermione started. "We looked into how to destroy the locket again. So far we knew that basilisk venom would do the job but seeing as we don't have a basilisk—"

"Basilisk?" John asked at the same time as Harry stated, "Hermione, we've already been through this."

"Not all of this," Ron corrected. "Remember we came across a few things that'll destroy just about anything. Fiendfyre, for example…"

"But we ruled it out because it can't be….oh."

Harry turned to look at John. John looked back. "What?"

"Do you think you can control a little fire for us?" Harry asked.

"A little?" Ron snorted. "It's bloody fiendfyre, Harry. Not a bit of flame to toast a marshmallow."

Harry sent him a look.

Hermione turned to John. "It's called fiendfyre. Remember that fire at Diagon Alley?" John nodded. "That was fiendfyre. Normally it can only be controlled by a powerful and experienced witch or wizard but you…well you put it out. We need you to control it enough to burn the locket and then put it out."

"Seems simple enough," John decided. Harry eyed John, legitimately surprised that he still wasn't asking questions. Was he really doing this for Harry? That couldn't be it completely. Even if it was in the midst of a battle, Harry had seen John move to protect Mrs. Cattermole.

Hermione nodded. "Depends on how good your control is."

John looked at her, eyebrows raised, as if she had just insulted him. "Just light the fucking fire," he told her. Hermione nodded again before casting the spell.

The fire seemed to jump out of her wand. John seemed to fight with it a moment before he brought it in towards himself so that it was only a ball. Breathing deeply, John moved his eyes from the flame to the locket before back again. Harry watched him as he pushed the flame slowly towards the locket.

Harry couldn't help but think how, well…how beautiful John looked when he controlled fire. When John just set fire loose, it seemed easy and exhilarating for him. But when John had to focus, that was when he had to put the effort into it. John's eyes would focus so intensely on the flame and his breathing would become slightly ragged the more he controlled the flame. Sometimes he would get so entranced that his eyes looked vacant.

Harry watched as that look came into John's eyes now as the flame engulfed the locket on the table. It burnt for a few moments before a scream pierced through the room. Harry, Ron, and Hermione flinched but John remained concentrated on the flame. John closed his eyes for a moment before opening them, taking a breath, and killing the flame. It seemed as if it took a John a few moments before coming down from whatever high he was on.

Ron and Hermione ran to the Horcrux which stood charred and broken. "He did it," Ron breathed, looking at John amazed.

Harry should have examined the Horcrux. Made sure that it was destroyed. That the job was done. But Harry's eyes were fixed on John who seemed to have touched back down. Harry knew he should have thought before doing what he did next but Harry had always been known to act rashly.

He launched himself at John and pulled him down into a kiss. John half caught him and froze as if in shock. For a moment Harry thought that John wasn't going to kiss back. But John slipped one arm against Harry's back and used the other to pull Harry's head closer to him before kissing back passionately.

Harry didn't care that Ron and Hermione were in the room. He stumbled when John shifted his weight and, if possible, pulled Harry in tighter. Harry heard his friends attempt to get his attention but he ignored them.

Before blocking them out completely, Harry heard, "But Hermione, do they really have to do it in front of me? This is worse than when he was with Ginny."


	18. It's All Just Exploding Snap

_Mutant Son_

A.N. Lots of talking in this chapter. I like talking as many you have undoubtedly noticed.

**Chapter Eighteen: It's All Just Exploding Snap**

There were always consequences for Harry's do first, think later attitude. Granted, the unplanned make-out session had been fantastic but now there were things to talk about. Harry knew he wanted to be with John. But that was the thing. He wanted to _be_ with John, not just share a bed. So post-make-out session, they now sat awkwardly in John's room, Harry at John's desk and John on his bed.

"This has to be different from before," Harry finally started.

John eyed him warily. "Different how?"

Harry couldn't think of the right words. "I…well I can't pretend that you don't mean anything to me," he tried.

"I mean something to you?" John asked. There was a tone to his voice that Harry had never heard, almost like shock. It was like the concept was so near impossible that hearing it said out loud was throwing him off.

"Obviously," Harry said eying him. "Why else would I be so pissed about…well about my birthday?"

John shrugged, eyes contemplating the ground before moving back up to Harry's. His tongue wet his lips as if he was preparing to say something. "I just don't…I guess, get it." And his tone was so, for lack of better words, earnest.

Harry considered standing and going to John but he overruled himself, instead choosing to keep a safe distance. "It's like," Harry tried. "I don't know. It's not just attraction anymore, though of course there's that. It's just, when I look at you I feel weird. And I like sleeping with you. You're really warm and I feel…safe. I know I've only shared a bed with you twice but those two nights are the only times in the past few months that I haven't had nightmares. That has to mean something."

"Me, too," John responded. "The nightmares, I mean. Also the feeling weird part." John sighed. "I don't know how to do this," he admitted. The last few days had offered a look into a side of John that Harry had never seen. Harry liked John how he was before but he couldn't deny seeing that John had a softer, less cocksure side made Harry more attracted.

"And you think I do?" Harry scoffed.

"Yeah, I do," John ran his hand absent-mindedly over the pocket with his lighter in it. "I see you with your friends. With Lupin. You let them in. I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"You know Bobby's girlfriend calls me a sociopath?" John asked, letting out a cheerless laugh. "Then again I call her a soul-sucking bitch, but still. Harry, there's something wrong with me. I just can't do the whole…emotional connection thing."

This time Harry did go to John. He didn't quite know what to do once he sat down. His eyes fell to his hand and he sort of fiddled with the side of John's jeans. "I think you underestimate yourself. You're not a bad person. You just think you are." When Harry raised his eyes, John was looking at him, almost studying him.

"Can we just try?" Harry finally asked. His voice sounded small even to him. Harry had never felt so unsure in his life. Well, he had always struggled in social interactions (he blamed the Dursleys for that), but nothing had ever felt quite so important. Besides the life or death shit he tended to have to deal with.

"I'll fuck up."

"So, will I," Harry responded. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm kind of messed up myself. But I really want to try this."

John didn't say anything, but his eyes trailed to where Harry was still fiddling with his jeans. "Come here," he finally said, scooting back on the bed so that he was leaning on the headboard. Harry followed, uncertain. They sat side by side for a few moments until Harry leaned so that his head was resting on John's shoulder.

They just sat like that for a while, not saying anything. It wasn't uncomfortable. It just was. This, whatever it was between Harry and John had seemed to move fast. Only about three months now. Harry never imagined feeling something like this, not even when he was with Ginny. And to think, it was with a guy. Funny how life works. Harry wondered what the wizarding world would think seeing the famous Harry Potter practically cuddling with Voldemort's heir and a guy to boot. On the topic of Voldemort, Harry figured that, after the Ministry, he owed something to John.

"John?"

"Mm?"

"You're really not curious about the locket?"

"I am," John said. "As hell."

Harry considered pulling away, but he figured he was less likely to back out if he didn't actually look at John. "That locket belonged to your grandmother. It was a family heirloom, going back generations, at least a thousand years."

"So, old, got it."

"It's important to your father," Harry paused. "I kind of get it. When you grow up an orphan, you kind of cling to anything involving family. Like my invisibility cloak. It was my dad's."

John nodded but didn't say anything. Harry doubted that he truly understood. John hated his parents, specifically his step-dad. While Harry and Voldemort always looked for blood ties, John avoided them at all costs. Though Harry had denied it to Remus, he knew that John shared similarities with Voldemort. But Harry often thought he himself shared more with the Dark Lord. Harry and Voldemort had been neglected growing up, but John had been abused. John never really said anything confirming it but he always called his step-dad a mean drunk, and his hatred of the man could only really be attributed to one thing. Harry often wondered how deep the abuse went, pretty deep if the way John had turned out said anything. But, at the same time, Harry didn't know if he really wanted to find out, fearing the worst.

"It was so important to him that he made it into a Horcrux. Basically something in which one stores a piece of his soul. Voldemort wants to be immortal and as long as the Horcruxes are still out there, he can't be killed."

"Shit," John responded. "How many?"

"Besides Voldemort, three more to go."

John leaned far enough away so that he could look at Harry. "You know I'll help you get them."

Harry nodded. After seeing John in action at the Ministry, he had no doubt. Again they sat in silence for a few moments. Again it was Harry who broke it. "You, Ron, and Hermione are the only ones that know." Harry didn't know why he felt the need to share that. Maybe that piece of information could say what he couldn't.

John said nothing, only kissed him. Harry responded eagerly, pressing into the kiss. John brought his hand to the back of Harry's neck and Harry tried to slip his hands under John's shirt but John stopped him. Harry pulled away confused.

"What?"

John thought for a moment though didn't move his hand from Harry's neck. "I wanna try something," John finally said. "Slow things down. This isn't about sex anymore. I'm gonna prove it."

"You don't have to prove anything," Harry responded, confused.

John only gave Harry a soft kiss before settling down, practically curled into Harry's side. "Let's just sleep. It's been a long day. Playing hero's hard fucking work."

Harry smiled, putting his hand in John's hair. "Must explain why I'm so tired all the time." With that Harry settled himself into a comfortable position, trying to get as close to John as possible. This time it was going to be different. Harry felt his lips form into another small smile. He could get used to this.

* * *

><p>Remus looked up from where he had been sipping his tea. Hermione stood in the kitchen doorway, slightly hesitant. It was clear that she wanted to talk to him, but Remus couldn't imagine what would make one very confident Hermione Granger hesitate.<p>

"Is that seat taken?" Hermione asked, gesturing to the stool across from him. It obviously wasn't but anything to start a conversation, Remus supposed.

"No, not at all." Remus waited for Hermione to settle into her seat. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"It's sort of about John and Harry," she started.

"Is it about whatever they're fighting about?" Remus asked curiously. He had thought about talking to Harry about whatever happened with John the night of Harry's birthday. And then there was John's vigil by Harry's bed. But Remus figured it wasn't his place. After all, who was he really to Harry?

Hermione let out a small smile. "Trust me, they're not fighting anymore." Remus's eyebrows rose, but he decided to take the statement at face value. He was perfectly happy to delude himself into thinking that John and Harry played innocent games of Exploding Snap when off alone. He cringed internally. Sirius would have made that into a ridiculous innuendo.

"Anyway, I was curious about what you think of their relationship?" Remus was sure this went beyond idle curiosity.

"You know Harry would be better off with Ginny. Or almost anyone else really," he responded. Hermione opened her mouth most likely to argue against the statement, but Remus continued. "Hermione, I'm rather fond of St. John, really I am. And I have no doubt that those two truly care for each other, perhaps even love each other. But sometimes love, even requited, doesn't equate to happiness. Sometimes it makes people more miserable than content."

"That is a rather bleak outlook," Hermione stated the obvious. "But have you seen the way Harry's mood just seems lighter when John is around or even how John actually smiles around Harry?"

Remus smiled at Hermione's optimism, her youth. At her age, love was still a romantic notion. "And the last few weeks both of them have been practically unbearable."

Hermione couldn't argue with that. Remus supposed that she wanted the best for Harry and, with her new found affection for John, she thought John could be it. Finally, Hermione spoke again. "Nevertheless, I believe it's best if we support them. They're the two most love starved people I have ever met, though John does his best to hide it. And Harry, despite his disregard for the rules, wants to please people, at least those he cares about. I know your opinion matters very much to him."

"My opinion?" he asked, surprised. Remus knew that there were other more important points in her small speech but this was what struck him.

Hermione looked at him oddly. "Of course," she said as if it were obvious. "Didn't you know?"

Remus shook his head. "But why would he? I've done nothing but fail him. I should've checked on him when he was young. I should've been there during the TriWizard Tournament. And last year I was so caught up in my own mourning, I failed to recognize his." Remus didn't know why he was sharing this with the seventeen, nearly eighteen, year old witch. But perhaps it was simply something he had needed to say to someone for a long time. He could never speak about it with Sirius. It was a sore subject for them both. And he doubted Tonks would understand.

"So you didn't blame him for Sirius's death?" Hermione asked. At his shocked look she quickly continued, "Harry's thoughts not mine."

Remus had absolutely no idea that Harry had felt that way. He had never thought that. Harry had been tricked, twice over, once by Voldemort and once by Kreacher. He was not to blame. Perhaps seeing the effect that the topic had on him, Hermione decided to return to the previous topic. "About John and Harry…"

Remus collected himself. "Yes." He cleared his throat. "I agree. Just because I fear that they will hurt each other does not mean that I do not hope for the best." Remus leveled his eyes on her. "We cannot take sides. I think it's time that people stop failing them. Both of them."

Hermione nodded. "I agree. No matter how angry they get. Really the tempers on those two. I'm surprised that Harry didn't hex John when John cheated on him—"

"Cheated?" Remus quickly interrupted.

Hermione's face fell. Clearly she hadn't meant to let that one slip. "Oops?" she looked sheepish. How could John do something like that to Harry? Remus understood that he had his issues but to hurt Harry like that. Remus stopped himself. No taking sides, he reminded himself.

"It's none of my business," he breathed out. But on the subject of things related to cheating. "Hermione, I trust that I can treat you like an adult here, an equal? I am no longer your professor." She nodded. Out of the children (young adults he supposed) associated with the Order, Hermione was clearly the most level headed, the most adult. Though John and Harry were both old beyond their years, Remus could not deny that they were both severely stunted in many matters. Hermione was also clearly the most observant, besides John's uncanny awareness of other people's weaknesses. "I worry about…it's a hard topic to broach." He sighed. "You don't suppose John's pressuring Harry too much? In terms of…"

Remus couldn't finish and Hermione didn't seem to catch on right away. But then Remus saw understanding flash across her features. "You mean in more intimate ways?" Very well said, Remus decided. Hermione gave him a small smile. "I assure you, Harry is very strong-willed. Even John can't make Harry do something he doesn't want to do."

Hermione paused for a moment. It was her turn to hesitate over a difficult subject to broach. "Prof…Remus?" He smiled to let her know it was okay to call him by his given name. "Do you find John's fixation on sex sort of, well, unsettling? Worrisome maybe?"

Remus sighed. Now this wasn't a subject he wanted to broach with the young woman. He had his own worries and suspicions on the topic but, despite the fact that Hermione was now a young adult, sometimes it was better to protect her and the others from the darker aspects of the world. At least as much as he could safely get away with it. "Hermione…"

"Perhaps that was too much?" Remus was glad for her intuition and he only nodded in response. "In that case, have a good night Remus."

As Hermione got up to leave, Remus told her, "You're a good friend to Harry, Hermione. I believe you will also be a good friend to John."

Hermione offered him a smile. "I plan to be." And she left.

Remus finished off his tea but did not move to go home. He loved Tonks, he really did, but sometimes it got overwhelming, the thought of the danger he put her in by simply marrying her. He knew he spent too much time at Headquarters and not enough time at home but he believed that Tonks understood.

Remus eyed an abandoned book on the far counter. There were really only two possible people that the book could belong to, Hermione or John. It didn't seem to be a text book, however, and Remus quickly settled on John. Remus was ashamed that he had found himself surprised that John was such an avid reader. Though he tried not to be, Remus certainly fell victim, at least partially, to John's bad boy act. But the young man was bright. He was after all Voldemort's son.

Remus retrieved the book off the counter and re-settled himself on a stool to read. He was mildly surprised to find that it was a book by Martin Luther King, Jr. One Remus had already read himself. Though, if John was reading a book on the American Civil Rights movement, Remus would have expected a book by Malcolm X. The boy was full of surprises.

He had gotten through the first few chapters when he was interrupted. "Like my book, I see."

Remus looked up to see the boy in question leaning against the door frame, smirk firmly in place. His hair was disheveled, quite a departure from his usual slicked back style, as if he had just rolled out of bed. Remus looked down at the page number before closing the book and setting it aside.

"Amazing man. I liked the book quite a lot the first time I read it," Remus responded easily.

"The first time?" John questioned. "You wizarding folk don't seem to up on your muggle culture."

"Ah, well yes," Remus smiled pleasantly as he moved to retrieve the tea pot. "Most are not. Would you like any tea?"

John shrugged before moving to the stool Hermione had occupied an hour or two before. Remus took that as a yes and added enough water for two. John took his lighter out, opening and closing it without lighting it. That was usually a sign that he was either restless or finding a conversation or even silence awkward.

Remus took a moment to study him. His jeans and t-shirt were a bit rumpled. Obviously he had fallen asleep in them. Remus checked the time: one a.m. He returned his attention to the kettle.

"I'm involved with your friends' son, you know."

Remus turned to look at John who closed his lighter with a resounding click. What did John intend with that statement?

"Again," Remus corrected. "Yes, I know."

John eyed him up. "No lectures? No warning me off?"

Remus's eyebrows rose. "It wouldn't be my place to, now would it?"

John flicked his lighter. "You tell me."

"No," Remus said slowly. "It wouldn't. I'm not his father. I'm not even his godfather or guardian." The kettle began to whistle and he prepared the tea. "Sugar? Milk?"

John shook his head. Remus brought the two mugs over and sat down across from John. He moved the book out of the way to ensure that he didn't spill anything on it.

"Though, I must warn you not everyone has your," Remus paused. "Let's say experience, shall we?"

John grinned. "I'm a good teacher."

Remus actually winced. Exploding Snap, he reminded himself. John laughed. "Come on now, he's not a kid. I wouldn't touch him if he was even close." Remus did not doubt the truth of that statement. John seemed to have a soft spot for kids though Merlin knew what he'd actually do when approached by one.

"Harry is twenty years younger than me. To me he's a kid."

John looked surprised. "Twenty?" he asked. "So Harry's parents were twenty when they had him?"

Remus nodded before he smiled sadly. "And twenty-one when they died."

"Fuck," John looked down at his hands. "My father…why would he purposely target people so young?"

"I think Harry and even you are proof that age does not determine the threat one poses. Lily and James were the brightest in our year, even if James rather cause trouble than study. They had survived him three times before. Few can even say that."

"Harry can," John pointed out.

Remus let a proud smile come to his face. Harry was certainly an exceptional young man. His parents would be proud. Though he wondered what Lily and James would think of John. Remus imagined that James would threaten him rather creatively though he'd probably grow to like him. Lily would try, very much like Hermione, to fix him, so to speak. Maybe that's what John needed.

"Hey," Harry said from the doorway. If John's hair was disheveled, words could not describe Harry's hair. A Potter trait passed down through generations.

Harry's eyes traveled between Remus and John before settling on the latter. "You left," he said to John. Perhaps Remus should give up pretending that they were only playing Exploding Snap. Remus was ready to follow Harry's lead in this war, the least he could do was treat Harry like an adult.

"Obviously," John rolled his eyes. Harry took a seat next to John. Both of them looked unsure on how to act for a moment. They settled for sitting perhaps only a little closer than the norm. Harry folded his hands in front of him and John continued to fidget with his lighter.

Remus cleared his throat. "You two _are_ being careful, right?" he asked.

Harry's eyebrows furrowed. "We got back from the Ministry okay didn't we?" Harry responded. John watched Harry with a large grin on his face.

"He's talking about sex, Harry," John informed him bluntly, laughing when Harry blushed.

"What? It's not like either of us can get pregnant or anything," Harry said, practically to his hands. "And we're not…"

"Getting all pelvic?" John offered unhelpfully, clearly enjoying Harry's discomfort. Harry glared at him. John became more serious. "I'm clean anyway," he told Remus.

While Remus had initially been relieved to hear that the two had not reached that stage, but John's choice of words made him wince. Sometimes John actually reminded Remus of Sirius. But then Remus caught up to the rest of John's statement. "You've been tested?"

John nodded. "Every few months since I got to the mansion. Again when I was visiting Bobby."

"You do realize I was joking when I told you that I hoped you got an STD, right?" Harry asked lightly, though there were undertones there. Remus paused. Harry actually said that? He smiled. Served John right for cheating on him. "Wait, when did you get to the mansion?"

Remus watched the two carefully. As world weary as Harry was, he was naïve in other ways. "Fifteen," John said, mimicking Harry's tone. As much as Remus hated it, his suspicions on John's life gained more evidence.

Harry let out a small, "Oh."

Then Remus recalled Harry's earlier words. "The Ministry? When were you two at the Ministry?"

Harry didn't even have the respect to look sheepish. Of course, John looked amused. "It was only like two hours, tops," Harry offered.

Remus put his head in his hands. "I'm guessing I can't ask why? But really? You two went alone? Never mind, it's not important now. Just, Harry we have a whole Order full of people fighting this war. Take back up next time."

"Because that would've been subtle," John said dryly. He began flicking his lighter again. _Flick. Swoosh. Click. Flick. Swoosh. Click. Flick. Swoosh. Click._

Remus lifted his head to ask him to stop only to watch as Harry took John's lighter. John looked at him, almost glaring but Harry wasn't looking at him. He just closed the lighter pointedly and slipped it into John's pocket. John stopped glaring, looking from his pocket to Harry's hand. Remus didn't know who was more surprised when John put his hand in Harry's: him, Harry, or John himself. It wasn't normal hand holding though, more John's hand fidgeting with Harry's. But it was something.

Both boys stared down at their hands for a moment and then up at each other. Harry grinned, "You're such a girl."

John didn't let go of his hand but leaned in and whispered in Harry's ear. Remus immediately regretted his werewolf senses. "Trust me, a girl couldn't do the things I plan to do to you."

This was going to be unbearable.


	19. Embracing Destiny

_Mutant Son_

A.N. First I want to thank everyone who's following the story and especially those leaving reviews. You don't know how much I appreciate being told I'm a good writer or I'm getting the characters down. Otherwise I'd think I'm terrible.

**Chapter Nineteen: Embracing Destiny**

"I can't believe you!" Hermione practically shouted. Harry winced. He knew a tirade was coming. He had expected something like this when he told his friends that he wanted them to return to Hogwarts for their 7th year. "This isn't just your fight. And to think you can give us orders, unbelievable! We're your friends not your employees!"

Ron had taken it more calmly amazing enough. "Hermione, calm down. Give him a chance to clarify before we start threatening him."

"I didn't threaten him," she glared at her boyfriend.

Ron shrugged. "Only a matter of time." He turned his attention to Harry now. "Mate, we've been with you since the beginning. You can't go it alone."

Harry sighed, running his hand through his hair. "I'm not going it alone." His eyes unintentionally looked towards John's figure. John was leaning nonchalantly on the opposite wall, playing with his lighter.

Ron followed his gaze and a dark look appeared on his face. "Is that supposed to make us feel any better?" And then he looked hurt and Harry couldn't look at him. "You _know_ you can trust us. We've never left your side when it counted."

"I know, Ron. Trust me, I know."

"And if you're doing this to protect us, stop right now Harry Potter. I've had enough of your hero complex. I'm not some damsel to be protected," Hermione glared. Harry hated when his friends were mad at him, but he knew what he was doing.

Harry looked up, meeting her eyes. "Listen, Hermione, I can't lie. Part of me is doing this to protect you." She went to interrupt but he cut in before she could. "Give me a moment, Hermione. The thing is, it's more than that. I know what you guys are capable of. But we need access to more books. We've run out of them here. The Hogwarts library will have more on what we need about the Founders."

He met both Ron and Hermione's eyes. Hermione still wasn't unconvinced but Ron seemed to be listening. "I'm ninety-nine percent sure one of the Horcruxes is at Hogwarts. If you guys went back, you'd have constant access to the grounds and—"

"Oh, don't you try giving us some special mission to make us go. I'm not going." Hermione looked almost petulant.

"I don't need your help." Harry knew these words were risky. "I have a whole Order to back me up. But do you know what I do need? Someone to pick up the D.A. Teach the students how to protect themselves, things that they wouldn't learn in class. Battle skills. The war will eventually come to Hogwarts and we're going to need more than a few professors and Order members on standby. You know how hard Hogwarts would be to get to if the worst happens."

Hermione was clearly still angry, but it had lost some of its strength. Almost imperceptibly, Ron gave a small nod. "I don't like this, Harry," he stated. "And I know you're doing that bloody annoying saving people thing. But, you're right." At the annoyed noise Hermione made, Ron turned to her. "There are a lot of different roles in this war, Hermione. Remember last year? Death Eaters in the school? How much worse do you think it would've been if there were more of them? If we didn't have that potion?"

Hermione just stared at him for a moment. "You're right," she admitted unhappily before turning her glare on Harry. "Oh but don't think we'll just sit back and let you protect us. If you need help you _will_ come to us. You understand me?"

Harry gave her a small smile which seemed to be a bad idea. "Don't you smile at me, Harry Potter," she snapped. Harry tried to keep a straight face. He really did. But he laughed and was glad to hear Ron laughing along with him. Harry could've sworn he saw Hermione's lips twitch in an almost-smile. She must've learned it from McGonagall.

"You're impossible. I fully intend to stay angry with you." And she marched out of the room, violently hurling the door open. Ron watched her for a moment.

"Ron, you get why I'm doing this right?" he asked hopefully.

Ron nodded. "It doesn't mean I have to like it." Then he grinned. "You have to teach me how you keep Hermione from being angry with you too long. Come on, she had to leave the room so she didn't forgive you."

Harry shrugged, also grinning. "It's a gift. Plus, I'm like a little brother to her. That means I can get away with things."

Ron shook his head. "Manipulative bastard." But he was teasing. "I suppose I should go find my girlfriend." Ron glanced at John as he was leaving the room. "Pyro," he nodded in acknowledgment. John slowly returned the motion, before his eyes returned to his lighter.

Harry stood, stretching a bit. "That went better than expected," he decided.

John eyed him. "I don't know. Looks like you got Hermione pissed enough," he stated.

"But she didn't hex me," Harry smiled. "Always a good sign."

A moment later, a mischievous smile appeared on John's face. Harry knew no good could come from that smile. "What?" Harry asked warily.

John shut the drawing room door. Harry rethought his previous suspicions. Well, he supposed something good could come from that smile. John didn't speak until he was directly in front of his, no more than an a few inches separated their bodies, less separating their face. Harry thought John was going to kiss him and Harry leaned in. But John only spoke softly almost against his lips.

"I suppose with your friends gone, I can have you all to myself." Finally John kissed him. Harry felt it when John smiled into the kiss. He pulled away, hand brushing against Harry's face. "You know. When you're not busy playing boy wonder."

John kissed him again. Harry wondered if anyone would suspect that John had this side to him. He was always in your face, constantly in motion. Harry certainly hadn't expected John to hold his hand, or kiss him gently, or anything really besides forceful. Not that forceful was a bad thing. Harry pressed into the kiss, gaining the upper hand. John smiled again, before pulling away.

"The door's unlocked," John pointed out. "And people here have an odd habit of not knocking." Harry looked around. He had forgotten they were in the drawing room. It had been reckless. Anyone could've walked in on them. Harry hated it, but he had a role to play.

"Upstairs," Harry said more than asked.

"Taking charge, huh? How can I argue with the great Harry Potter?" John asked. John often referred to Harry with such names. Said by anyone else in that tone of voice, they would sound sarcastic or demeaning. But it sort of amused Harry when John did this. John wasn't being complimentary when he said things like that, but more poking fun at him. For John, that was affection. Harry guessed there was a reason that many of John's Bobby stories ended with them calling each other names or getting into fights.

They headed out of the drawing room and John followed closely behind Harry up the stairs. They only made it half way when McGonagall called for them. "Harry. Pyro."

Both turned and neither Harry nor McGonagall missed the annoyed look on John's face. "Whatever it is, can't it wait? Important things to do," John practically drawled.

"I'm sure," McGonagall sternly looked at him over her glasses. "I'm afraid they are going to have to wait. Follow me."

Harry followed quickly, worrying that something was wrong. He still couldn't quite read his ex-Professor. John, on the other hand, followed reluctantly. They entered the kitchen where Remus was waiting for them.

"Nothing's wrong," he assured them. Harry let out a sigh of relief.

"So why the urgency?" he asked.

Remus peered at McGonagall. "Urgency?"

McGonagall simply returned his look, before turning her eyes to Harry. "We're going to Hogwarts," she stated simply.

Harry's eyebrows furrowed. "Why?"

"If you would just wait, Potter, I will explain it to you. Impatient," she shook her head. "Like your father."

After he had seen Snape's memory, Harry had been reluctant to hear himself compared to his father for a long time. But Sirius and Remus had assured him that James Potter had grown up eventually. Didn't everyone (besides Snape and the Dursleys) tell him what a great man his father was? Now, after meeting John, the incident between Snape and the Marauders didn't strike him as so terrible. Not that it was excusable. Harry truly thought that John had it in him to be a good guy. But that didn't stop him from being an asshole.

McGonagall continued. "Albus—his portrait—wishes to speak to you," she stated plainly. Harry's face fell. He couldn't even look at the portrait the last time he was in Dumbledore's office. "We would also like to go over the wards."

"The wards?" Harry asked, completely lost.

"We believe that, with your help, the wards can be strengthened," McGonagall said. She didn't let him interrupt, answering his question before he could even voice it. "I trust that you remember our discussion after Moody's death."

Of course he remembered, though he tried to ignore it, instead concentrating on the Horcruxes and John. Harry sighed. He knew he wouldn't win any arguments here. But they couldn't blame him if he was unable to help.

"That's great," John said from where he sat on the counter, simply observing. While John was often loud and often an attention grabber, he could easily slip into the background when it suited his purposes. "Really. But this has to do with me how?"

Remus answered this time. "We believe you may be of service as well. If we can get you past the muggle repelling charms. I'll be curious to see how they affect you." John sent him a look that clearly told him he wasn't some experiment.

Harry wondered for a moment why they needed John when it hit him. "You're hoping that Hogwarts will recognize John as the heir of Slytherin," he stated. John suddenly appeared more interested, though Harry wondered if he was the only one that could read that.

"Well deduced Harry," Remus smiled and Harry was briefly reminded of his third year. "We're hoping John's status as a mutant won't hinder him."

Harry thought about it for a moment. "It shouldn't," he decided. "John could see the dementors when they attacked us."

"When were you two attacked by dementors?" McGonagall asked sharply, her look an odd mix of angry professor and worried woman.

Harry tried to look innocent. "Ummm…at the Ministry?"

McGonagall glared at him. "You were lucky that I was so busy this past week. I meant to have words with you about that." Glaring over at John as well, she seemingly decided it wasn't too late to do so. "And you. Can't you just try to be a good influence?" She scolded them all the way to Hogwarts.

* * *

><p>John couldn't keep the impressed look off his face when the castle came into view. And he had thought that the mansion was impressive.<p>

"You can see it then?" McGonagall asked from her seat in the carriage.

"No, I just timed my expression perfectly for the fun of it," John rolled his eyes. He glanced at the creatures pulling the carriage. "Plus the giant undead hoofed carcasses."

Remus looked surprised. "You can see the thestrals?" He didn't wait for John's answer. "Minerva, do you suppose that it's his mutation or that he has enough magic in his blood to see all this?"

"I don't know, Remus. I'm sure Dumbledore will have some ideas," she responded. John decided to return to zoning them out in case McGonagall started lecturing again. His eyes landed on Harry who hadn't spoken since leaving Headquarters. John shifted so that his leg brushed against Harry's. It was the only thing he could do right now. Sure McGonagall knew about their relationship (though probably not how serious it had become), but he and Harry couldn't get comfortable with this. Their relationship could only happen behind closed doors. John knew that Harry's relationship with him could seriously screw up the war effort. And he wondered when he started caring.

Harry turned away from the thestrals to give John a small smile. "So what's up with those?" John asked quietly, nodding towards the thestrals.

Harry glanced back at them, smile fading. "You can only see them if you've seen death," he said nonchalantly. "Apparently they have a bad reputation for that, but they're pretty cool."

John nodded, recognizing that perhaps he chose the wrong topic to break the silence. He turned his head to look at the castle again. As he did so, he noticed Lupin and McGonagall attempting (unsuccessfully) not to watch them. Finally they reached the gates.

"We walk from here," McGonagall announced, leading the way out of the carriage. With a tap of the wand, she opened the gates. John sincerely hoped it wasn't that easy to get onto the grounds.

"Impressive security," he said sarcastically.

Lupin smiled at him. "As Headmistress the wards recognize her magical signature."

Harry's spirits seemed to lift as they walked the grounds. He pointed out a cottage near the woods. "That's Hagrid's. I told you about him. Or mentioned him. I hope."

"Giant. Can't keep a secret," he affirmed.

Harry smiled. John felt like he did something right.

"And that's the Forbidden Forest," Harry continued.

"Let me guess. It's forbidden."

"Yep," Harry sent a grin at Lupin and McGonagall. "Been in there about six or seven times."

"Potter! I swear if you were still a student," McGonagall glared at him. "You're worse than the Weasley twins with that forest." She turned her glare to Lupin. "I believe Remus here may have you beat, of course."

Remus looked sheepish. "If it helps I was usually trying to _stop_ James and Sirius from going in there. Failing of course."

John tried to imagine Lupin as a troublemaker. Maybe he was like Bobby, always being in the wrong place at the wrong time or being guilt tripped into helping. He'd feel bad about doing that to Bobby except he needed someone to back him up. Plus he made Bobby's life less boring.

They reached the castle and John was struck by just how big it was. His home in Sydney could have fit in the courtyard itself multiple times. Harry and John followed Remus and McGonagall through the halls. John eyes kept focusing on the moving portraits, the suits of armor, and he could have sworn that he had seen a ghost. When his gaze finally landed on Harry, he looked amusedly at him.

"Impressed?" Harry asked teasingly.

"No shit," he responded. He practically turned completely when he saw a staircase move on his own. "Fuck. You went to school here?"

They came to a stop in front of a particularly ugly gargoyle. McGonagall turned to him. "I would appreciate it if you watched your language while on school grounds. Mars Bars."

"Mars Bars?" John thought she went crazy.

"It's the password." Harry looked upset again. He sighed. "Shall we?"

"This is where we leave you, Harry," Lupin smiled tightly.

Harry began to walk up the stairs, but soon turned around. He looked at John, eyebrows furrowed. "Coming?"

John looked at him speculatively. Before turning to Lupin and McGonagall. Lupin shrugged. "It's not our decision. It's Harry's."

"Be sure that you know what you're doing, Potter," McGonagall warned. John didn't get that woman. One moment she seemed to like him, the next she expected him to betray them.

Harry didn't say anything only waited, so John began to walk up the stairs, following behind him as Harry began walking again. The door opened to reveal a large room, decorated in random devices and knick knacks.

"She kept them,'' Harry practically whispered.

And then from seemingly a wall came a voice. "I'm afraid that Minerva is having a hard time accepting that this is now her office." An old man spoke from a portrait. This must be Albus Dumbledore, Harry's dead mentor.

John now understood why Harry wanted him to come. Harry couldn't meet the portrait's eyes. "Hello, Harry," Dumbledore smiled kindly. John didn't think that eyes could actually twinkle. The old man then turned to John. "And St. John I believe. I'm Albus Dumbledore."

John nodded at him, watching him curiously.

"Harry?" Dumbledore looked sadly at his student. "I would hate to have a conversation with myself. They say to do so is a sign of insanity."

Harry smiled slightly and Dumbledore looked sincerely pleased. "I hear that you question the prophecy," Dumbledore began. John sat on the arm of the nearest chair. What prophecy?

"It can't be me," Harry finally looked at the portrait. "Not this too."

Dumbledore looked sadly down at his protégé. "I regret that so much rests on your shoulders. If I could lift that weight I would."

Harry walked away from the portrait. Though he passed John, he didn't seem to see him. His eyes landed on a sword hanging on the wall behind the large desk. "I'll kill him," Harry's voice was quiet but it filled the room. "I won't fail." He looked up, his gaze landing intensely on Dumbledore. "But I won't lead anyone. I won't lead them to their deaths."

He finally looked at John, throwing himself into the seat John was sitting against. Harry put his head in his hands, seemingly staring at the carpet. John didn't know what to do. Should he comfort him? In front of Dumbledore? At this point though, John didn't care. He brushed his hand against Harry's shoulder.

"So it's true then? Minerva may have mentioned it," Dumbledore watched them curiously.

"You have a problem with that?" John challenged.

Dumbledore smiled at him. John had seen that smile before, on Xavier. It had taken John over a year to realize that it was honest. That didn't mean he was going to trust this man.

"Far from it. In fact, I am happy that Harry has someone in this difficult time. In war it is so easy to lose what makes you human. I trust that you'll take care of him."

Harry finally looked up. "I can take care of myself. Keep him out of this," he glared.

"I believe it is St. John's choice to get involved."

"What he said," John said, glaring at Harry. "What prophecy? The one about my father?" he shot at Dumbledore, knowing that Harry wouldn't tell him.

"Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry shrugged. That was one thing that they had in common. Their shrugs often meant yes. Or rather go ahead, see if I care (even when John really did care).

"A little under a thousand years ago, the descendents of the four founders—"

John felt a long, boring explanation coming. "How about just the gist of it then?" Harry couldn't help but smile.

"Ah, Harry. I see that you have met someone more impatient than you," Dumbledore was honestly amused. "The gist of it as you say, then. You are aware that you are the heir of Slytherin and what that means?" John nodded. "Harry is the heir of Gryffindor. It was said that the heir of Gryffindor would return one day to either lead the wizarding world into the light, or leave it in darkness."

John had known that Harry was important for this war. He had even expected that Harry's contribution would go beyond killing John's father. There was a leader in Harry. Everyone knew it. But to have it prophesized? To give him no choice?

"Are you sure?" After all, Dumbledore hadn't said how they knew it was Harry.

"Do you see that sword above Minerva's desk?" Again John nodded. "That is Gryffindor's sword. Part of the prophecy said that the sword would appear only to the heir of Gryffindor. That sword appeared to Harry in a time of need."

Harry suddenly stood, moving swiftly to the window. Why hadn't Harry told him? Did he truly find leadership a greater burden than killing? But John already knew the answer to that. Harry already blamed everything on himself. John would protect Harry from having to kill until the moment of truth, but he couldn't lead for him. He was incapable of leadership.

"I wish I could do this for you Harry, but this is your destiny alone." Dumbledore looked at him sadly.

Harry glared at him. "You could've done something. You could've _not_ died. You could have not petrified me. I could've taken Malfoy. You know I could have!" As he spoke, his voice got increasingly louder. He paused, running his hand through his hair.

Dumbledore sighed, suddenly tired. "What you have never understood Harry is that your life is more important than mine. As long as you live, we have hope."

"Hold on, Gandalf. It's not enough that he has to kill my father or that he's supposed to lead. But now you want him to be a symbol! He's seventeen years old," John said, eyes cold. He grabbed his lighter, flicking it, calming himself down. This wasn't fair.

Harry let out a bitter laugh. "I've always been a symbol. But I won't lead."

Dumbledore sighed, looking at his hands before eying first John then Harry. "Then the wizarding world will be left in darkness."

Manipulative bastard. John believed that Dumbledore truly cared for Harry, probably tried to protect him at one point. But now, he thought of the world, the greater good. No matter how much it pained the man.

"Why?" Harry finally asked.

"Harry, you know people follow—"

"No not 'why do I have to lead?'" Harry looked straight into the old Headmaster's eyes for the first time. "Why didn't you let me save you?"

The great Albus Dumbledore appeared beyond tired in that moment. "That is one of the reasons I called you here today. What I tell you next is up to you how to use, who to tell. Understand, I'm looking to you as a leader in this moment." Dumbledore seemed to evaluate Harry. "Severus Snape did not murder me."

"I saw it," Harry denied.

"Yes, you saw Severus cast the killing curse. However, I had been dying already. When I foolishly put Marvello's ring on, I signed my own death warrant. You saw my hand; you must recognize that this is true. That night, Severus cast the killing curse because I _ordered_ him to."

Harry frantically ran a hand through his hair. "And people say I have a hero complex. What? You just decided to make yourself a martyr?" Well, if that wasn't the pot calling the kettle black. "Left the Order, the wizarding world helpless?"

"Harry I was already dying. It was only a matter of a month or two. By allowing Severus to kill me, our spy remained in Tom's ranks and a young man did not need to become a murderer. He did not need to lose his family. No matter your hatred for Draco, you must understand." John wondered briefly who Draco was, but it probably didn't matter at the moment. "Tell me, do you believe me?"

"Yes," Harry said, barely audible. "You've never lied to me. Withheld information, yes, but never lied." Harry closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. John wanted to go to him but at the moment Harry needed to be Harry Potter and John hated himself for thinking about the greater good. But he knew Harry was capable of this. But as soon as the greater good meant losing Harry, to death, to himself, to whatever, fuck the greater good.

"What do you need me to do?" he asked, opening his eyes. Harry was resigned but determined. He would do what needed to be done.

"If I were not here to guide you, what would you do?"

Harry didn't need to think about it. "Track down Snape and Malfoy. Establish contact with Snape and come up with a way that he could pass information to me, Remus, or McGonagall. You offered Malfoy protection. I'd extend that offer again. His mother if I could help her. Lucius Malfoy can be tortured and killed by his master. I don't care."

Dumbledore nodded throughout Harry's rundown. When he was done, Dumbledore smiled, a bit sadly, but more proud than anything else. "See Harry, my boy, you do not need me to fight this war. Trust your instincts, they have gotten you far. Trust Ms. Granger, Mr. Weasley." He paused. "Trust this young man who stands beside you. I knew Tom Riddle through most of his life. Though St. John certainly shares some characteristics with his father, he is his own man. I can see it standing, rather hanging, here. I do not need Remus's or Charles's words to convince me."

Though he had said this to Harry, Dumbledore now turned to John. "St. John, I cannot pretend this won't be a difficult path. You have darkness in you, anger and hatred, but it's the choices we make that define us. You have a choice and I am confident that you'll choose to continue on this path."

And then, as if they hadn't been discussing serious topics, Dumbledore gave them a bright smile. "Now, off you trot."

Harry and John looked at each other but there was nothing more to be said. They turned to leave, John following behind Harry. As they got to the door, Dumbledore's voice stopped them. "St. John." John looked at him. "Take care of him, my boy."

John nodded. That was one thing he planned to do. He didn't know how but he would learn how.

But their draining day was not yet over. There were still wards to attend to. John watched as Lupin and McGonagall showed Harry to sense wards to manipulate them, but he didn't quite pay attention to them. It was magic. He didn't do magic. Being Pyro, he pulled out his lighter to entertain himself, palming a ball of fire. John formed simple shapes with the fire.

"Pyro. Pyro!"

John was jolted back to reality, putting out the flame. He looked at McGonagall expectantly. "If you are quite done playing with your power, would you mind joining us?" Her tone of voice suggested that he didn't have much of a choice, even if he did mind.

"What?" he asked, making his way over to what he assumed was the edge of the wards.

"May we take some of your blood?" Lupin asked. John looked at him skeptically. "Just a small amount, I assure you. We hope that with the blood of two heirs we can re-enforce the wards."

Seeing that Harry had held out his hand, John sighed and did the same. With a quick flick of McGonagall's wand, a clean cut appeared on Harry's hand.

"Now what?" Harry asked nervously. John wondered if Harry was hoping that this would or wouldn't work. If it worked, then the prophecy indeed pertained to him. If it didn't work, Hogwarts would be left partially vulnerable. "Is there some sort of spell? Some Latin chant? Perhaps a sacrifice under the new moon or whatever."

Lupin looked amused and John swore that he saw McGonagall almost smile. "No, now you request that Hogwarts recognizes your blood and, thus, your will. Potter, you first."

Harry hesitated for a moment before collecting himself and moving to the wards. He squeezed his hand so that blood dripped into the ground. The blood disappeared into the ground. "Uh, I want you to strengthen the wards."

"Perhaps a bit more forceful?" Lupin suggested. "And perhaps more specific."

"Okay," Harry took a breath. "I, Harry James Potter, ask you to protect these grounds, these students from harm. Keep the Death Eaters out. Most importantly, keep Tom Marvello Riddle, Lord Voldemort, from entering these grounds." Harry squeezed his hand again and, before the blood even hit the ground, there was a flash and some sort of force seemed to reverberate back at them.

John's eyes remained on Harry who had his eyes closed. John suspected that the look on Harry's face reflected (if maybe to a lesser degree) the look John sometimes got on his face when he was controlling glower. So, his hypothesis had been true. More powerful magic had a stronger feel.

"Pyro, something similar please," McGonagall requested.

"Right," he stepped up. "I, St. John Allerdyce, bastard son of Tom Riddle, ask the same thing."

"Pyro—" McGonagall warned, but John squeezed his hand and watched the blood drop. Before McGonagall could continue the wards flashed again.

"Had to include the bastard son part, didn't you?" Harry asked, grinning. Their previous discussion with Dumbledore still obviously weighed on him, but Harry was strong, stronger than him, John knew.

"As I said," John returned the grin. "I'm St. John fucking Allerdyce."

"Your middle name?"

"No, just for stress."

Harry laughed and John smiled. He couldn't lead, but he could relieve the tension. Maybe he could do this.


	20. Needlessly Dysfunctional

_Mutant Son_

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling's and Marvel's.

A.N. Thanks again to all those who have reviewed or shown some other form of appreciation for this story. As _Semper Paratis_ stated, John has at least stopped posturing with Harry in moments. The way I see it, John will have a similar relationship with Harry as he did Bobby just more intimate. There is a difference b/w boyfriend (though both Harry and especially John would have an issue with that word) and best friend. While John will share his thoughts with Harry, he will keep most of his past between him and Bobby. He knows Bobby gets his past and accepts it. He'd be scared that Harry wouldn't and that would ruin everything. So as this is fanfiction, I have certainly taken liberties with the plot and characters. Malfoy has to have more friends than Crabbe and Goyle. The guy couldn't have compartmentalized himself to the extent that he only had two idiotic friends.

**Chapter Twenty: Needlessly Dysfunctional**

Sitting on the Hogwart's Express, Hermione was still angry. She knew that Harry could've given this job to someone else, like Ginny for example. Perhaps she was being unreasonable. Harry trusted very few people. He wouldn't trust this to anyone but Ron and Hermione.

She watched as the seventh years filed into the front compartment. Most looked surprised to see Harry perched on the back of a seat towards the front. Others eyed John, knowing that a stranger was among them. Harry had gotten McGonagall to send a letter out to all returning seventh years a couple of days before. Of course, she hadn't informed them that Harry would be there. They didn't need any Death Eater attacks.

Hermione took her eyes off the door to watch Harry and John who were quietly talking to each other. John said something that made Harry let out a small laugh. His response made John smirk. Hermione was relieved that things were going well. So well, in fact, that Hermione couldn't help but be a bit jealous. Hermione and Ron's relationship had been building up for years yet John and Harry had jumped past them in just a few short months. But, she shouldn't have been surprised, Harry tended to do things in full force.

At a quarter to eleven, Harry stood. Hermione looked around. Their class had certainly shrunk but she was glad to see representatives from each House, including Slytherin.

"I asked McGonagall to get you all to meet me here today. I just have a few things to say before you guys leave for Hogwarts."

"You're not coming, then?" Ernie Macmillian asked.

Harry shook his head. "Why make Hogwarts a larger target?" Despite themselves, a few looked relieved. "Anyway, I wanted to announce that Hermione and Ron will be starting the D.A. up again this year." A few old members smiled at each other. "This isn't about exams, or sticking it to that toad this time. The thing is, we're at war and Voldemort makes everyone a target, no matter your blood status or family name. Everyone needs to know how to protect themselves. There is no shame in not fighting. I just refuse to have anyone who may be on the battle field unprepared."

There were a few nods around the room. The Slytherins watched, faces carefully neutral. "You guys are now the oldest students in the school, role models. The younger years will follow you. I know Dumbledore and the Sorting Hat have spoken about school unity for years but I'm going to repeat it. We're at war. Aren't there enough enemies?" Harry looked at the Slytherins. "I know a lot of you hate me. Whatever. I know it's kind of hypocritical of me to ask this. When it came to House rivalry, I'm sure Malfoy and I pushed the envelope a little too far."

"You nearly killed him," Pansy Parkinson sneered.

Harry sighed. "That was an accident. I didn't know what the spell did. In my defense, Malfoy tried to hit me with the Cruciatus."

Hermione barely held back her comment. She hadn't known that. It made her hate Malfoy just a little bit more, despite Harry's tamer attitude in terms of his old rival. Hermione suspected that Harry actually pitied Malfoy.

"So me and Malfoy, we're even."

"He's a Death Eater," someone in the back growled.

Harry shrugged, choosing not to comment. He glanced at his watch. "Any questions?"

"Yeah," Blaise Zabini said. He lazily gestured towards John. "Who's he?"

Harry glanced at John. John shrugged. What were they up to? Why was John even here? Harry turned back to Zabini and his group of Slytherins. "This is John, or Pyro. He's Voldemort's son."

There was practically a collective gasp and people began to whisper, before speaking louder.

"Why is he here?"

"He's got to be evil."

Hermione watched as John merely played with his lighter. He looked amused. Of course, John would look amused. People were scared of him. "Hey, quiet down," Harry requested. Everyone did so slowly. "Look, he's on our side."

"How can you be sure?" Amazingly it was Neville who asked.

"Because, Neville, John's already proven himself at both Diagon Alley and the Ministry. He fought by my side both times," Harry answered. John palmed a ball of fire. Never mind amused, John was having fun.

"It's true." Hermione was surprised to hear that comment come from her boyfriend. "He's a git who thinks he's better than everyone, but he's on our side."

"Finally admitted it, Weasley?" John asked lightly.

"Yeah," Ron eyed him. "Don't rub it in."

"Right," Harry said, recovering from his own surprise and glancing at his watch. "We've got to go," he said to John. "Uh, see you guys," Harry said awkwardly. Hermione inwardly rolled her eyes. He had done such a good job and now it was the return of shy Harry. As the two left, Hermione noticed Zabini discreetly following.

* * *

><p>Harry was surprised when Zabini of all people followed him out to talk. "Can I speak to you for a moment?" the Slytherin asked. Zabini eyed John.<p>

"I'm staying," John said, returning Zabini's look.

"I see that you have your own personal guard dog, Potter," Zabini said coldly.

Harry sighed. What was with this guard dog thing? First Mundungus and now Zabini? "Listen, Zabini, get on with it. The train is leaving soon."

Zabini attempted to maintain his detached attitude. "Have you heard any news on Draco?"

Harry hadn't been aware that Malfoy had been friends with him. But then again, Harry had never paid attention to who Malfoy associated with. "No," Harry slowly admitted. Both of Zabini's sleeves were rolled up, revealing no Dark Mark. Had he done that on purpose? "I plan on finding him though."

"To kill him?" Zabini sneered.

"No, to help him."

Zabini looked suspicious. "I'm counting on your Gryffindor honesty here. Last I heard, the Dark Lord was shacking up at Malfoy Manor. Owls can still get through but I'm sure they're checking. Perhaps you can get a coded message through. That is, if you really want to help him." Then Zabini left.

"That was weird," Harry told John. They got off the train and Harry grabbed John's arm to apparate them back to Headquarters. When they got to Harry's bedroom, he threw himself down on the bed, sighing, while John went to open a window.

"So that's the second time in the last week that I heard that Draco kid get brought up. What's the deal?" John pulled out a cigarette and placed it between his lips before lighting it. He took a drag.

Harry glanced at him. Why the curiosity? "He goes…went to Hogwarts with me. We hated each other, probably well past normal rivalries. His father's a Death Eater and raised Malfoy to become one. Voldemort ordered Malfoy to get Death Eaters into the castle and then kill Dumbledore. He did the first but he couldn't kill Dumbledore. Malfoy may be a bad guy but he's not evil, you know? Things used to be black and white. Now there are just too many shades of grey."

Harry watched John smoke. John himself was a constantly shifting shade of grey. Sometimes lighter, sometimes darker. "I think I could've helped him."

"What do you mean?" John flicked the ash off of his cigarette and out the window.

"I knew Malfoy was a Death Eater and that he was up to something. But I refused to see anything else. Like when he started to look dead on his feet, skipped Quidditch, stopped messing with me and my friends."

"Sounds like you saw a lot," John pointed out.

"You're not getting it," Harry said frustrated. "If it were anyone else but Malfoy I would've seen that they needed help. I could've done something." He had never said it out loud but his pity for his rival often mixed with guilt.

"Ah," John said, tossing the cigarette out the window and turning so that he was facing Harry completely. "So this is a saving people thing, huh? Every bad thing that happens to someone is your fault because you didn't stop it? It's war, bad shit happens."

Harry glared. Clearly John didn't get it. How could he? John only watched out for himself. Harry knew this wasn't completely true. John watched out for Harry, he protected a bunch of prisoners at the Ministry. But in that moment, Harry felt like it was true.

"Never mind," Harry growled.

John raised his eyebrows. "Did I piss you off? What? The truth bother you?" Harry didn't really need this right now. Despite telling Dumbledore he refused to lead, Harry had done exactly that today. He felt like the air itself was crashing into him.

"What would you know anyway? You've never taken responsibility for anything in your whole life, least of all yourself," Harry snapped.

John looked at him coldly. "So babysitting you doesn't count?"

"Says the guy that needs someone constantly cleaning up after him. Tell me, when do you think Bobby's going to get tired of it?" Harry didn't quite know why he was so angry.

"Cleaning up after _myself_? Your messes get people killed. We wouldn't want what happened to your godfather happen to anyone else, would we?" John shot back.

Harry's blood ran cold. John knew exactly where to hit, didn't he? "Get out," he demanded darkly.

"Fine," John said, sounding far too calm. "Feel bad for yourself. That'll get you far." And he left.

Why did Harry bother with him? He truly was an asshole, even if he wasn't evil. Harry didn't need him. He could do without him.

* * *

><p>Sometimes John had a big mouth. When he was annoyed, angry, or stressed, he had no filter. And though John was pissed with Harry, he wasn't pissed enough that he wanted to end anything. But that might have been what he just did back there. John had meant to wake the guy up, not start a fight. John didn't even think he said anything that bad in the beginning. Why was Harry so angry?<p>

He shouldn't have brought up Harry's godfather, but then again, didn't Harry start it with that comment about Bobby? This is why John didn't get close to people. Then they knew your weaknesses. Bobby generally didn't take advantage of this, only accidentally. Harry, on the other hand, knew the value of weaknesses. The Golden Boy was not so golden. He had known that before, but John was supposed to be the fuck-up boyfriend (he cringed at the word) and Harry was supposed to be the good boy with issues. He shouldn't have been surprised though. They were both survivors. They wielded any weapon they could.

John sighed as he threw himself onto his bed, running both hands through his hair. He didn't know who had messed up here: Harry or John?

He didn't have much time to dwell on his thoughts because soon Tonks called through the door that dinner was ready. As much as he didn't want to deal with people, he was hungry.

John was surprised to see Mrs. Weasley setting food on the dining room table. Without her children here, what reason did she have to stay? John's stomach twisted. Tonks and Remus were sitting so that, if Harry did come down for dinner, they'd have to sit next to each other. He really hoped Harry didn't show.

No sooner had he thought that did Harry walk in. He paused at the sight of John and gave him a dark look. John just looked at Harry in a way that Bobby often said was infuriatingly condescending. Nevertheless, Harry sat next to him.

Lupin attempted to break the awkward silence as Mrs. Weasley also sat. "We appreciate you cooking for us, Molly. Where's Arthur?"

Mrs. Weasley looked briefly upset. "Working late at the office."

That wasn't good. The longer Mr. Weasley or any other Order member stayed at the Ministry, the greater chance that they were in trouble. "I'm sure it's fine, Molly," Tonks said reassuringly.

John couldn't resist. "And if it isn't, I'm sure Harry can swoop in and save the day," he said lightly. He attempted to look like their fight didn't affect him at all.

"We better not ask John, he may just kill someone. Unintentionally, of course," Harry responded not hiding his anger. Well someone didn't hold his punches. At all.

"Harry!"

Lupin and Mr. Weasley admonished at the same time. "What's up with you two?" Tonks asked, shoveling food in her mouth quickly after. John pushed his fork into his own food.

John ate a bit of his mashed potatoes, keeping his face carefully neutral. If anyone else in this house had said that, he would have physically lashed out. But, with Harry, he knew emotional and psychological warfare would work best.

"At least I embrace what I am," John said carefully, leaning back in his chair. The adults just watched them in horrified silence. "You're just too much of a fucking coward to accept yours. I rather run than hide."

Harry swallowed, calming himself down. He seemed to evaluate John for a moment. John's stomach turned; Harry was ready to play the game. "Why don't you just leave, then? You can't hack the whole good guy thing. It's not your fault. It's in your blood."

And if Harry didn't hit it where it hurt. He had guessed one of John's top fears and used it against him. John stood igniting his lighter and pulling the flame to his hand. Harry reacted quickly. A few inches separated them, John ready to let the fire out and Harry aiming his wand.

"ENOUGH!" Mrs. Weasley shouted. "I will not have this here. I will not have you two hurt each other. Whatever is going on, fix it!"

John glared at Harry before putting his fire out. He brushed past Harry and didn't look back. Somehow, John managed not to slam the door once he reached his room. He paced the room, flicking his lighter open and closed. He needed to do something. His blood felt like it was burning in his body. But there was nothing to destroy. No one to fight. No Bobby.

He tried to occupy himself with random things. Reading didn't work. He managed to write a few pages of shit before giving up, throwing the book at the wall. The book that Xavier had gotten for him for graduation. It told him that John did something right. And now its pages were sticking out and wrinkled on the floor.

Whatever. He didn't care. Finally, John snapped. He grabbed his jacket and quickly made towards the door. He had just entered the front hall when Harry's voice stopped him.

"So you _are_ running then?" Harry asked. John turned around to see Harry leaning against the living room door frame, in a position that John knew how to use well. A kind of position that usually worked for him when trying to discreetly get attention from a possible hook-up. John didn't want to but his eyes seemed to have a mind of their own as they trailed down Harry's body.

Harry didn't seem to notice. Obviously it was unintentional. Harry didn't know how to use his body like John did. Harry straightened up, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Isn't that what you wanted?" When Harry didn't answer, John continued roughly, "I'm getting a drink. Or ten."

Harry bit his lip. John's stomach twisted. No, he didn't want to be attracted to Harry in that moment. He wanted to go out and get drunk and then come back here and pass out.

"You're coping mechanisms are kind of self-destructive."

"At least I have coping mechanisms," John said, pulling on his jacket. It wasn't meant to be an insult which was good seeing as it would have been a pathetic one.

Harry shrugged. "I know. I get angry and say stupid things to people I care about, instead of dealing." He didn't make eye contact with John, looking at the floor instead.

John paused in his attempt to leave. What was going on here? John suspected that he was looking at Harry rather dumbly, completely confused.

Harry sighed. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, before looking up at John. "I'm sorry," he said more strongly. "I mess things up a lot; it's not just you. And I didn't mean what I said about any of it. I just knew it would hurt you and I took advantage of that."

"Is that supposed to make anything better?" John asked exasperatedly. That was why he was mad at Harry, not because he though Harry thought it was true. "That you didn't mean it?"

"I know," Harry sounded sincere. "But you didn't exactly hold back either."

He was right there. He could apologize but was he really sorry about what he said? Yes. Would he say sorry? No. Instead John launched himself at Harry. Harry tensed like he thought John was attacking him.

Instead John pushed him against the wall and crashed his mouth against Harry's. It was sloppy but intense and neither could get close enough. John barely heard the noise Harry made in the back of his throat but it was enough for him to push, if possible, harder.

John didn't know quite what he was doing. But this was Harry and that had come to mean something. So he was apologizing in the only way he knew how. John grinded into Harry who made that maddening noise again. John pulled away for a moment, catching his breath. "Upstairs," he breathed.

Harry was breathing just as hard as John. For a moment, he looked confused, then nervous and unsure. And then that determined look that John loved (really liked, he meant) crossed Harry's face. Harry pulled him into a kiss and apparated them to his room.

* * *

><p>Harry stared at the ceiling as light filtered in through the window. John had fallen asleep quickly after, but Harry couldn't. He was sore and he felt on the edge of both panic and complete calmness. It came in phases. That was probably just the best experience of his life. He didn't want to regret it. But John was turned away from him in his sleep. Usually when they shared a bed, they weren't so far apart.<p>

Was John still mad at him? Had this meant anything or was it just John finally going for what he wanted? Harry should have cleared that up before they had sex. Before he actually lost his virginity. And with a guy, his mind said. He wasn't sure how he felt about that.

Finally, after hours of being dead to the world, John began to move. John had the rare ability to keep completely still in his sleep, if he was moving now, it meant that he was awake. John turned towards him.

"Hey," he said, only half awake.

"Hey," Harry responded awkwardly as John got out of bed and to the bathroom. Harry was glad John had pulled his boxers on the night before. The way he was feeling, he wasn't sure if he could handle a naked John. Maybe handle wasn't the right word.

When John returned, he looked more awake. He sat towards the edge of the bed, resting against the headboard, one foot touching the floor. It was quiet. Harry wanted to know where they stood and he waited for John to do something. But he didn't.

Harry got up and pulled a pair of sweats lying on his chair over his boxers, holding back a wince. He took his turn in the bathroom. He threw water on his face and looked up into the mirror. Same old Harry. Green eyes, check. Messy black hair, check. Scar, check.

He looked into his own eyes. He was Harry Potter and as much as he wished that didn't mean anything, it did. Harry wasn't going to be awkward or uncertain about this anymore.

Drying his face, he left the bathroom. John was in the same position, playing and staring with his lighter. He looked up, closing the lighter as Harry approached him but Harry couldn't read his face. Harry put his hand over the lighter and John's hand, pushing it away from John's torso. Harry leaned down and he lightly kissed John. John hesitated for a moment before kissing back. He didn't try to intensify it. Harry pulled away and stepped over John to his side of the bed. This hadn't been just sex.

"So," Harry started. "Sunny day."

John looked amused. "Gotta work on your morning after conversational skills."

Harry rolled his eyes. "You try it Mr. Experience."

John shrugged. "Never had a morning after. Wasn't exactly my thing. Fuck and leave." Harry thought he understood now John's quietness this morning. While he was pulling off the St. John Allerdyce posturing, John had been at as much of a loss on what to do as Harry.

Harry swallowed. "I wasn't sure if you _were_ going to stay," Harry said nonchalantly. "After the fight. After what I said. You were still angry…"

"You thought that this was driven by anger?" John asked slowly. Harry shrugged, trying to pull off calm and collected. "That's the stupidest fucking thing I've ever heard. Haven't I proven myself to you?"

"I know," Harry shrugged. "It was just a bad fight. I wasn't sure. Last time you...never mind."

John stared for a moment. "Never mind last time," he said carefully. "It's different now."

Harry sent him a small smile.

* * *

><p>When Remus entered the kitchen an hour after sunrise, he was rather surprised at what he saw. John and Harry kissing, near the stove. The flame may have been hitting the frying pan a little higher than usually.<p>

Hadn't they just been in a fight? He couldn't believe the things they both said the night before.

Remus cleared his throat and Harry jumped back from John. But John only smirked, running a hand through his hair to put it back in place. Harry's eyes landed on Remus.

"It's just you," Harry breathed. "A little warning would've been nice."

Remus looked at Harry in amusement. "Should I stomp around every time I enter a room?"

John smirked, jumping up on the counter. He swung his legs but didn't hit the cabinets underneath. Always in motion, Remus noticed. "I think the eggs may be burning," John said lightly.

Harry went over to the stove and shut it off, immediately taking the eggs off of the hot frying pan. Remus hadn't known that Harry could cook.

Harry glared over at John. "This is your fault," he said.

John raised his eyebrows. "Hey, you kissed me. Not the other way around." Remus grabbed a seat and observed.

"And who here controls fire?" Harry asked.

John didn't answer instead pushing himself off the counter to grab a piece of egg. "Tastes fine to me," he shrugged.

Harry turned to Remus. "Do you want some? I figured with Mrs. Weasley not here all the time, we have to feed ourselves."

John handed Remus the plate he was about to eat and Remus accepted it gratefully. He tasted it. Despite John's burn warning, the eggs tasted rather good. "When did you learn how to cook?" he asked. He couldn't recall ever seeing Harry cook before. But then again, with Molly around, no one else could.

Harry shrugged. Instead of making his own plate, he stole from John's. John put his plate down between them from where they stood leaning on the counters. How did they go from last night to this?

Harry finally asked him. "Probably around the time I could reach the stove. Aunt Petunia taught me."

Remus couldn't imagine Lily's sister and Harry had bonded over cooking. Did the Dursleys make Harry cook for them?

Of course, John focused on the wrong part of the sentence. "Petunia? What kind of name is Petunia?"

Harry grinned. But then again, maybe John didn't focus on the wrong part of the sentence.

"Not to encroach on anyone's business, but what happened…" Remus couldn't even complete the question. What happened last night? This morning? In between? Did someone cast a memory charm on the two?"

"We made up?" Harry said, asking more than answering.

"I see…" Remus trailed off. That didn't explain a lot. He looked at John.

John eyed him for a moment, apparently evaluating him. He spoke, "Sex makes everything better."

Remus rubbed at his eyes as if he had seen it not heard about it. He did not need to know that. But hadn't he asked. He looked at John who was grinning, having clearly intended to give him this stroke, and Harry who was trying his best not to smile.

"I'm going to go in the other room and pretend I never heard that," Remus announced, abandoning his eggs on the table.

It was only after he left the kitchen did something else hit him, more serious than his aversion to hearing about Harry's sex life. 'We made up'. 'Sex makes everything better'. They had said some horrible things to each other last night, and over what, and attempted to fix it with sex. He began to worry for the two again. Someone was going to get hurt. As much as he wished it wasn't Harry, his heart hurt at the idea of John getting hurt as well. Did they really have to do this during a war?


	21. The Lull

_Mutant Son_

A.N. Thanks to my very few reviewers. Hearing feedback is great. It keeps me true to the characters. I see a lot of people reading this aren't overly familiar with Pyro and/or X-Men. In that case, I really hope my characterization of Pyro isn't misleading. Also, I hope people aren't actually losing interest in the story. Please let me know you're still into it! Also, I CANNOT create coded messages. So I've alluded to a message without actually writing one. Yes, I cheated, but better than the alternative.

**Chapter 21: The Lull**

Harry was staring at the ceiling again, thinking. They were at a dead end as far as the Horcruxes went. A month in the Hogwart's library hadn't provided Hermione and Ron with much information. And without Voldemort making his next move, all they could do was wait.

Harry had tried to be productive. He studied combat spells from all the books he could, but he wouldn't know whether he had grasped them without actually casting them. And Harry didn't want to use anybody as a dummy. So Harry was taking a break from the war and staring at the ceiling. He wished he could go flying or something. That's what he used to do at Hogwarts. He missed that place so much.

When Harry was sure he memorized every mark on the ceiling, he turned his head towards John who was reading next to him. He hadn't even bothered to put on a shirt. Harry grinned. If he couldn't fly…

He leaned over to John and trailed his lips along John's shoulder. But John kept reading, or pretended to keep reading. John's eyes had stopped moving across the page. So it was a game then. Harry worked his way towards John's neck and trailed one hand down John's chest. He paused when he hit a raised scar near John's stomach. Harry pulled away to look at it.

John tensed as Harry's hand stayed on the scar. "What's this from?" Harry asked. For a second he thought it was new. He took a second to look more closely at John's body. Harry had done this before but only in form which was plenty distracting itself. He saw a few faint scars here and there on John's chest and arms. Not too many but enough to raise an alarm in Harry's mind.

John pulled away and grabbed for his shirt without looking at Harry. He pulled his shirt over his head, back towards Harry. "Why?" John finally asked, turning to face him suspiciously.

"I don't know. It's a pretty bad scar," Harry shrugged. What Harry really wanted to say is 'because I want to know about your past'. But Harry didn't. While they talked sometimes (often instead sitting in silence or messing around), it was rarely about the past.

John kept looking at him, head cocked to the side ever so slightly. Harry refused to squirm. "Information doesn't come free," John said slowly.

Harry's mind ran through possible ways of paying for information, none of which were good.

"I tell you about this scar," John said, gesturing towards the relative spot the scar was located. "And you tell me something big about your life." Sure Harry could do that. "Pre-Hogwarts," John continued. Harry suddenly wasn't sure whether this was a good idea, but it was only fair he guessed.

"Okay," Harry decided. Harry watched as John pulled that detached expression and pose he so often sported.

"I was fifteen," John started. "A few months before Xavier found me. I did a lot of things to make money. One of them was knocking off cars. I chose the wrong car." John shrugged. "Got stabbed for my mistake."

At Harry's shocked look John continued. "It didn't hit anything important. Stitched it up myself. Couldn't risk the hospital."

Harry had expected that John went through things like this, but hearing it was something else. Stabbed while stealing a car? Harry wasn't sure which 's' he was caught on: the stealing, stabbing, or stitching.

Clearly John was waiting for Harry to say something but Harry didn't know what to say. He had learned early on that sometimes it was best to keep your mouth shut, not that he often followed that lesson nowadays.

So for lack of something to say, he skipped his response, instead deciding to keep his end of the deal. "Whenever I did something wrong my uncle locked me in my room without food for however long he felt I deserved." Somehow that didn't feel up to par with John's so Harry kept going. He softly offered, "My room was the cupboard under the stairs."

Harry was expecting that cool acceptance John offered when Harry had told him about his failed attempt at the Cruciatus. He didn't expect a noise like a hiss and John pushing himself away from the desk and at Harry. And he certainly didn't expect John to be checking out his arms and attempting to pull off Harry's shirt. Harry roughly pushed John away.

"What are you doing?" he asked in complete confusion. Harry's eyes met John's darkly intense look.

"Checking for scars," John gritted out. "I swear, if they laid one fucking hand on you…"

John made a move towards him but Harry backed up, sending his own glare. "I told you that they locked me in my room—"

"A cupboard," John growled.

"But I didn't say they beat me," Harry continued, keeping a decent space between them. John sighed in frustration, moving away from him.

"Yeah, how am I supposed to know that you're not keeping that to yourself, too," John pulled out his lighter. He paced, rubbing his hand along it.

"Too?" Harry asked. "You're saying _I'm _keeping things from you? Which one of us was beaten badly enough to run half-way across the world? Something you haven't exactly shared, you know."

"I gave you enough information for you to read between the lines," John glared. "This is different."

"Different how?"

"Because it's you, not me."

Harry paused. He wished he caught on to things like Hermione did. John had just said something important there and he wasn't sure what it meant.

"How often?"

Harry sighed. "I told you they didn't beat me."

"No," John said. "How often did they lock you in the cupboard?" John had stopped pacing. He was looking somewhere to Harry's left, one hand paused over the lighter.

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. When I did accidental magic. Did well in school, did poor in school. Maybe a couple of times a year?"

John nodded, finally calm. But this didn't feel like a good calm. "But they didn't lay a hand on you?" he confirmed.

"They didn't _beat_ me. Sure they shoved me in the cupboard a couple of times or grabbed my arm too roughly, but never beat me," Harry tried to explain. He had gotten over his annoyance with John for his reaction. Now he was just trying to calm John down and apparently succeeding. Though hot-headed, Harry hadn't expected such a strong response from him.

"So, you stole cars?" Harry felt this was the right time to broach the subject. John was calm and less defensive.

John nodded distractedly. "My dad was a mechanic," he said.

Harry guessed that explained how John knew how to steal cars. "Was that…" Harry swallowed, "….the worst that you did?"

John looked at Harry, meeting his gaze. "Depends on how you look at it," he said quietly. "Now the share and care session is over."

Harry nodded but John wasn't looking at him, instead turning to face the window. Something still needed to be said. Harry didn't know what he was doing but the hell with it. Hadn't they messed up enough in the last month? What was one more mistake if he wasn't getting it right?

Harry slowly approached John. He reached around John so that his arm was partially around John's torso and rested his hand on where he thought the scar to be. Harry was glad that no more than an inch separated them in height as he placed a soft kiss on the crook of John's neck. John tensed again for a moment before relaxing ever so slightly, putting his hand on Harry's arm.

They didn't stay in that position for long. John turned and sat on the very edge of his desk, pulling Harry along with him. But Harry didn't need to be pulled to stay close. They didn't look at each other. John just rested his forehead on Harry chest. Harry hesitated before running his hand through John's hair.

"You survived," Harry said quietly. "No matter what you did, you survived and maybe it's selfish but I don't care about anything else."

John pulled away and looked up at Harry as if he was going to say something but decided against it. A knock on the door interrupted them.

"It's open," John shouted at the door and Harry moved away from him. John watched him with an odd expression. Harry ran his hand through his hair, trying to push the moment from his mind.

The door opened and Shackelbolt poked his head in. "Potter, good," he said as he entered into the room completely. He looked at the two speculatively. Harry knew they were far enough from each other that nothing should have been suspicious. Then again, perhaps it was suspicious enough for two guys to be constantly found in a bedroom together.

"You're late," he directed this at both of them. "The Order meeting started ten minutes ago." Harry checked his watch. Shit.

* * *

><p>McGonagall did not wait. Potter and Pyro were late but they had much to discuss. She sent the last person to arrive (late she may add) to fetch them. No matter what the two were doing, she knew that Kingsley at least had enough courtesy to knock.<p>

McGonagall looked around the room. This was their first meeting since the Ministry fell. She, Remus, and a few others had immediately attended to Hogwarts business after, ensuring that the Ministry's fall did not mean the same for Hogwarts. Others attended to their personal lives, making sure their families were safe. Still others quickly fell out of contact. They had already given up hope.

It was with a heavy heart that she took in their reduced numbers. The Weasleys, Fleur, Remus, Tonks, Kingsley, herself, and the two tardy boys just entering into the room, ten minutes late.

She cleared her throat. "I trust that I do not have to transfigure one of you into a pocket watch to make sure you are not late again." She couldn't remember whether she had already used that line on Potter. Her issues with him did not usually involve tardiness. From Harry's smile she knew that she had indeed already used that line.

"Thank you for coming," McGonagall announced, looking pointedly at Potter and Pyro. "I'm afraid to say that this is all who are."

Her audience looked around at each other, exchanging looks of solemn camaraderie. All except Potter who was sitting next to Remus and Pyro who chose to remain in the back, close to the door.

McGonagall sighed, letting her face show her weariness for a moment. Among these people she could; they did not expect her to be perfect.

"Our numbers have reached an all time low," she said tiredly. "The Death Eaters and their supporters greatly outnumber us. Our only success so far has been to hold on to Hogwarts. So I open the floor. We need suggestions and we need them now."

"How about recruitment," Arthur suggested.

"But who?" Kingsley responded. "The Ministry is lost. It is all the people can do just to survive as individuals, let alone fight a war for our whole world."

McGonagall looked around. Her eyes landed on Remus who was looking grim. They both had run out of ideas since the strengthening of the Hogwart's wards (which she had to admit was a fantastic idea. Thank Merlin for small victories).

Harry cleared his throat. "How about younger people? Recent graduates maybe? Last time the Order had plenty of people even Fred and George's age. I know my parents were. What's stopping us now?"

And that was a good question. She had thought about recruiting the younger generations but somehow she couldn't actively do so. The Weasley children, Granger, and even Pyro had fallen into it because of Potter. But as the years went on, her students seemed younger and younger. She could not watch kids like Lily and James die again or another innocent like Sirius waste away in Azkaban, for they were merely children that Halloween night. A lost generation she often felt. But now, with their numbers dwindling, what choice did they have?

Molly must have seen the look on her face. "No, Minerva," she shook her head forcefully. "We cannot have children fight for us."

"We're not children, Mum," the twins said in unison. Despite their naturally boisterous nature, they were usually quiet during meetings. They glanced at Potter who nodded.

"Mrs. Weasley," he started. "This is as much our generation's war as it was our parent's. By protecting us, you only put us in more danger." Potter swallowed and everyone's eyes were glued, Molly's in horror. "Voldemort called Cedric a spare before he killed him. He said 'Kill the spare'. If you don't let us fight, you just make more spares. Cedric wasn't a spare."

McGonagall's chest felt tight at the thought of Diggory. They had failed. If they had just suspected the fake Moody, Diggory would still be alive.

"How do you suggest we go about this?" Remus asked, breaking the silence. No one objected. It was clear that the room knew that this was their only hope.

Potter shrugged. "I don't know," he ducked his head. "I don't exactly pay attention to people. I doubt I could name everyone in _my_ year."

McGonagall held back a small smile. Yes, Potter was still a child. But her inner smile could not last long. This child was whom the whole wizarding world was resting their hopes on.

"How about them?" Pyro asked from the back, nodding at the group of Weasleys. She suspected that he meant the Weasley children but he didn't clarify. "You seem like a sociable bunch." He said it like an insult, but he had a point.

"Yes" Tonks agreed. "If Bill, Charlie, Fred and George, and I think I'm sure we can come up with a list of names. We can contact them."

"You must be careful," Kingsley reminded them. "Just as in the first war, we cannot trust anyone."

Tonks nodded to show that she heard him but instead of responding, spoke to the younger Weasleys. "We'll meet directly after this."

"And those of legal age already still at Hogwarts?" Arthur asked timidly, keeping his gaze from landing on his wife who had already stiffened.

"They are of age," McGonagall admitted. "If the time comes, we cannot prevent them from fighting."

"_When_ the time comes, you mean," Remus cut in. They could hold no delusions.

"I already have Hermione and Ron running the D.A.," Potter added. "If they're going to fight, they're going to know how to."

"And how about you, Potter?" Kingsley asked. "Though the spells in your arsenal have served you thus far, you need more to fight this war."

Potter nodded. "I've been studying but I can't actually practice most of the spells."

"We can have dueling practice," Remus suggested. "Though Minerva is needed at Hogwarts, Tonks, myself, and Kingsley can take turns." Kingsley nodded.

Potter eyed them. "Alright."

"How about hand-to-hand?" Pyro asked from the back again. "I know you wizards are big on your wands but what the fuck do you guys do if you lose them?"

McGonagall glared at the boy for his language, though he had a point. "I'm assuming you could help him with that? If you have the knowledge of course."

John stared at her. "I live at a school run by the _X-Men_, of course I can do hand-to-hand," he said as if she was stupid. Maybe she was. She had to admit she did not know much about the X-Men or mutants in general.

"This is good," Kingsley agreed. "He would have to go through such training in the Auror corp."

"I am here you know," Potter stated though he didn't sound petulant, but instead as if he thought they had actually forgotten.

Kingsley ignored him. "How good are you?" he shot at Pyro.

"Not the best," Pyro admitted though he didn't sound embarrassed. "I rather use fire. But I fight dirty."

"Good," Kingsley nodded. "There is no room for rules in combat." He turned to Potter sharply. "Do you hear that Potter? Your stunning and disarming spells are all well and good, powerful at that, but you aren't at school anymore. You must be willing to do more."

Potter glared at him. "I won't kill anyone until I have to," he said just as sharply.

"I don't care if you're willing to kill," Kingsley said and, at Potter's surprised look, he continued, "You just have to be willing to maim."

McGonagall, Remus, and Pyro watched Potter carefully. She knew that Remus felt the same as she did, that they wished it wasn't so but what was, was. But as her eyes landed on Pyro, she knew he was thinking something else. What, she wasn't sure. That boy remained a mystery to her. If Potter didn't trust him so much she would never take her eyes off him.

"Maim," Potter said slowly. "I can do maim." But Potter didn't look completely sure, his emotions as ever on his sleeve.

"How about your wandless magic, Harry?" Bill Weasley asked.

"We all saw him summon his wand to him at the Ministry," Charlie said.

"Which was wicked by the way," Fred added.

"And the look on You-Know-Who's face…" George continued. He made a look as if he was imagining it in that moment, though McGonagall doubted it. No one would ever want to see that man's deformed face voluntarily.

Molly shushed them and, no longer distracted by the Weasley boys' antics, they all looked at Potter who appeared a bit uncomfortable under their gazes. For some reason, he looked at Pyro who met his gaze. And then Potter became more confident. Remus and McGonagall eyed each other over the exchange. Interesting.

"Ummm…well I can do that," Potter responded needlessly. "And that's about it, really."

"Actually," Pyro cut in. "He moves things in his sleep. Not much but noticeably. Probably during nightmares." No one missed the statement. At the looks on everyone's faces, they must have all come to the same realization: the two boys had to have shared a room for Pyro to see that. And they both had their own rooms.

Potter looked surprised. He clearly hadn't known that. Then he looked doubtful. But McGonagall for one believed Pyro, remembering the incident recalled by Dumbledore in his office after the Department of Mysteries.

Then Potter realized what else Pyro had said. "Stayed up too late playing Exploding Snap," Potter explained, offering an innocent shrug. McGonagall's eyes narrowed. Apparently Potter wasn't as bad at lying as she had thought.

Next to her, she saw Remus actually wince. Had he preferred them to admit to what they were actually doing? And though she was somewhat curious, she didn't know whether her heart could handle the truth. It wouldn't do to have a heart attack in the middle of a war.

Pyro smirked in the corner, bringing his lighter up to his lips as if it were the only thing keeping him quiet. When people turned away from him, Potter took the chance to glare at him. Pyro's smirk remained as he shrugged not so innocently.

"Well," Bill cleared his throat. "It shouldn't be that much of a problem then. I can teach you a few simple methods I learned while I was at Gringotts. I was never very good at it. But then perhaps I can show you more about wards?"

Potter nodded, but he glanced around the room. "So when did this meeting become about me?"

"There's a lull in the fighting, Harry. You must take advantage of the time and train," Remus stated. "You did wonderfully at the Ministry, Harry, but quick thinking alone may not help you the next time you face Voldemort."

And the room quickly turned solemn. McGonagall wondered if everyone, like her, kept seeing the image of Potter's torture in their minds.

* * *

><p>John didn't bother knocking as he entered Harry's room. It was empty but he heard the shower running in the bathroom. Harry had trained every day that week. He seemed exhausted by all the magic he was exerting. And John hadn't even started teaching him how to fight yet. He figured it best for Harry to adjust to the magic use before adding anything else strenuous. Besides sex of course.<p>

Now that they had finally started, it was like Harry couldn't get enough, not that John minded in the least, whatever they did. Anything that got them both off would do. John had never had sex with the same person more than once. While John had obviously enjoyed the first time very much (somehow Harry's inexperience didn't hinder this, though he couldn't figure why), each time after got better. Perhaps this was why so many people insisted on being in a relationship in order to have sex.

The water shut off and John heard the shower curtain moving. John leaned back on the bed, hands behind his head. Harry paused in the doorway, towel around his waist. John enjoyed the moment. Harry tended to stay fully clothed around him for as long as he could. Body image issues? He couldn't imagine why. Harry was thin but he was also toned, more lean than anything else. A little pale perhaps but his skin was mostly unmarred. Well except for the marks John himself put there.

Harry not so surreptitiously made sure his towel stayed firmly in place. "Why are you staring at me?" he asked suspiciously.

John's eyebrows rose. "Why else?" Harry looked at him blankly. "Admiring the view, so to speak. And imagining all the things I want to do to you."

Harry didn't blush. Apparently he had gotten used to such things coming out of John's mouth, which was good since John tended to say stuff like that a lot.

Harry slipped boxers on under his towel before discarding it to pull on a pair of well worn sweats and a t-shirt. He couldn't tell whether either item was his or Harry's. They really should start keeping track.

"You do realize I've already seen everything, not to mention touched," John said lightly. Harry shrugged as he lay down on his bed. He got close enough that were inches apart, facing each other.

"Yeah," Harry finally said. "But I'm too distracted myself in those moments to feel awkward." John looked at Harry as he said this. Sometimes it struck John how young Harry actually was. Both he and John had it hard growing up and were old beyond their years. But Harry still had some sort of innocence left in him. John felt guilty for a moment for his part in tarnishing that, but only for a moment. Of all the types of innocence you could lose, this was by far the most enjoyable. Besides, John knew he would only let Harry experience the best parts of sex. Harry was too good for anything else.

"Not going to make fun of me?" Harry asked. "Because then I could get on you for your love of hair gel. You put it on before you even put on your pants." Harry sent a smirk at him. Then it was moments like these that reminded John that Harry gave as good as he got both verbally and physically (nowadays at least), if not less boldly.

As if reinforcing his point, Harry put his hand in John's hair near the nape of his neck. John smiled at him, encouraging him. It had taken sex to get Harry to regularly initiate contact of all kinds. It had taken losing Harry for those few weeks for John to initiate any affectionate contact beyond sex or anything related. Now both John and Harry found themselves doing so as often as possible. Behind closed doors of course. He truly hadn't thought about his wording at the Order meeting. It was a close call. But a part of him didn't regret it at all.

John saw when Harry began to think of something serious. Any hint of a smile was gone, his lips were in a slight frown. This wouldn't do. John put his hand on Harry's hip, pulling him close enough to comfortably kiss him.

Harry slowly pulled away. "You're trying to distract me," he said very seriously but there was a hint of a smile on his face.

John smirked in return. "Is it working?"

"Only partially," Harry admitted before getting that look on his face. That look that said that the slightly mischievous part of Harry was making an appearance. Despite the war, this Harry was coming out more and more. "We should stop. Unless you want me to be thinking about another guy while kissing you. I don't think your ego could take it."

John knew he was kidding and that Harry wasn't thinking about the guy in the same way that he thought about John. Nevertheless, he did pull away. It wasn't his ego, it was his possessiveness. Another unhealthy character trait.

Harry looked speculatively at him for a moment. "I need to contact Malfoy," he finally said. Great, this Draco kid again. "Or Snape though I think that would be more difficult."

John stared at him blankly. Harry rolled his eyes. "I was asking for your advice," he told him.

John shrugged. He didn't exactly plan things, just did them with no consideration of the consequences. John had truly meant what he said to Harry the first night they met: 'Live fast and die young'. "Do what that kid on the train said," he offered finally.

"Owling seems a little obvious," Harry said doubtfully.

"I'm sure their guarding for things less obvious. Besides, that's what the code's for."

Harry thought about it. "I don't actually know Malfoy enough for a code. I haven't had much interaction with him beyond fighting, dueling, insulting each other's parents. The usual."

"You guys took rivalry to the highest level, didn't you?" John asked, slightly surprised. After all, parents were a sore subject for Harry. He doubted that Harry would pull out the your-mamma jokes on just anyone.

"I hate him and it's mutual."

"Then why help him?" John truly didn't get it. He would _enjoy_ watching people he hated fall and he would be certain to grab a front row seat. If he could've only watched his real father kill his step-dad.

Harry looked at him like it was obvious. It seemed that Harry still didn't get it himself. John was a selfish asshole with sociopathic tendencies. Everyone knew it; he knew it; Bobby even knew it. But Harry had yet to truly understand that.

"Because no one deserves that. To be at the mercy of Voldemort? No, thank you," Harry said firmly. "I hate Malfoy, but he's not the enemy."

"Plus he could give you information on the other side," John pointed out.

Harry scoffed. "Malfoy? He's only out for himself." And John was any different? Harry seemed to have guessed what crossed John's mind. "He's a coward more than anything else."

And that was that. Harry thought through a few ideas, getting John's feedback here and there. "What do you have in common?" John finally asked. "There has to be something."

"Quidditch," Harry said. "But that won't be very helpful. It's a fairly common interest. Now if I wanted to mention idiotic pranks to pull during a game, or playing dirty, or sending animated cartoons of your rival getting hit by lightening—"

"What was that last one?" John was suddenly interested.

"The cartoon thing?" John nodded. "Malfoy's a slimy git. He made sure that his team didn't have to play in this terrible storm we had third year. He thought it was incredibly funny that I had to play on it. He took to sending me pictures of me getting struck by lightning while on the Pitch. Real funny."

John grinned. He might've just figured it out. "Who else saw those?"

"I don't know," Harry said looking at him questioningly. "It was a long time ago. Malfoy might not even remember it." John doubted it. If Harry remembered it, Malfoy would remember it.

"He will," he assured. "Draw a picture like that. That should show that it's you. Then we have to figure out how to communicate that you're on his side and where you want to meet."

Harry sent him a brilliant smile. John swallowed. Not the time, he reminded himself. He watched Harry draw. He really was a terrible drawer. Finally John got fed up, grabbed the quill, and drew a coherent enough image of a guy on a broom getting struck by lightning. As he did this, Harry ran to his trunk and threw it open, scrounging around for something. He pulled out a book and flipped through the pages. He paused, mumbled something a few times under his breath and bee-lined back to the bed.

Harry only studied the drawing for a moment before casting a spell. And John's drawing started to move. He would never get used to that. Harry took the quill back. He bit his lip as he thought before he seemed to get it. John watched Harry write, still biting his lip. As soon as this was done, John was going to jump him.

Finally, Harry pulled away from the parchment and pushed it to John.

John stared at it a moment, taking in the words. He paused. "Is this supposed to mean something?"

Harry ran his hand through his hair. "It's vague, yeah. Also not so connected with the picture. But I hope if he stares at it long enough, he'll get it. If it doesn't work we can try again?"

"What if he gets it but ignores the offer?" John served as the voice of reason.

Harry looked at him blankly. "Can't we just figure that out if it happens? I hate plans. They always go wrong."

He had John there. This was dangerous but John knew he couldn't talk Harry out of it. Personally, John would ignore the message, not set a trap but he didn't know how Malfoy's mind worked. "What does this mean, then?"

Harry went through each of the clues with him. John made a few suggestions to either clarify or make something less obvious. After a lot of back and forth, they were finally satisfied.

"So Hog's Head on Friday at sunset?" John looked over the final draft.

"That's the plan," Harry said, a worried look appearing on his face. He was thinking about all the ways the plan could fail. But Harry had worked hard enough today. Training and planning. He needed to relax and John knew exactly how to get him to relax. Well later rather than sooner.

Harry needed a good night's sleep. John would make sure of that. It was the least he could do.


	22. Draco Malfoy

_Mutant Son_

A.N. Again thanks for all the feedback. I'm really enjoying writing this story and it's nice to know I'm not just writing it for me. In this chapter, John shows even more ways he can be an asshole.

**Chapter 22: Draco Malfoy**

John took a sip of his drink, lounging back as if he was perfectly at home in the dark, dank, and completely seedy bar. He glanced out the window from under the hood of the cloak Harry lent him, watching as the sun set. Across from him, Harry sat under the invisibility cloak. They had been sitting here, John nursing a drink or two, for about two hours now, casing the place (John always wanted to say that). The place had remained relatively empty the entire time. John had discreetly analyzed each patron's body language and was mostly confident that they were all completely immersed in their drinks.

The door of the bar swung open, revealing a man in a dark cloak (which seemed to be practically the dress code for this place). The man nodded at the bartender before grabbing a seat near the back, not too far from John and Harry. Harry gave him two light kicks under the table. Not Malfoy. But John remained suspicious. This man wasn't as interested in his drink as the others.

The sun had been down for nearly an hour when the door opened again. While this man (more of a boy actually, John thought) too wore a black cloak, his hood remained off. John supposed the platinum blond hair would've probably been apparent under a cloak anyway. One kick. Wow, when Harry said the kid was blond he wasn't kidding.

Malfoy walked calmly to the bar and, ordering a drink, attempted not to look nervous. He did a pretty good job, too. But John had learned how to read body language well when still on the streets. The kid sat in a position so that he could be back on his feet and possibly out the door at the first sign of trouble. Harry kicked him again, harder this time, and John glared at where he was pretty sure Harry sat. He gave a small nod to let Harry know to get ready.

John went to the bathroom and washed his hands before making his way back to the bar. His eyes narrowed as he saw Malfoy shoot a glance at the hooded figure. He stood a foot or two down from Malfoy and leaned his forearms on the bar as he spoke to the bartender. "You got someone decorating your bathroom in puke, man," he told the bartender.

The man practically growled but didn't say anything else as he grabbed a bucket and mop. When he had left, John took a seat on the bar and pulled out a few papers as if he were reviewing them. He positioned himself and the papers so that Malfoy could get a full view. This one was a sketch of a ferret. Harry had just smiled when John asked him about that one, but told him it would get Malfoy's attention. Then a drawing of the Shrieking Shack.

Malfoy tensed ever so slightly. "You're American," Malfoy said, looking at John coldly, but he could still see the nervousness.

"Visiting a friend," John shrugged. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Malfoy paid for his drink and, sending one last look at John, left. That was that.

John downed his drink as he saw the hooded figure head to the bathroom. Interesting.

* * *

><p>Harry made sure to leave the door to the Shrieking Shack partially ajar. He sat impatiently waiting for Malfoy to show up. At first, Harry had been surprised that Malfoy had made no attempt to conceal his identity, though he supposed not doing so made him look less suspicious. Was Malfoy stupid or did he actually think that out? Then again, Malfoy did figure out Harry's horrid attempt at code. Points to Malfoy then.<p>

Harry tensed as he saw the door slowly swing open and Malfoy walk in. No doubt about it; Malfoy looked half-terrified. Malfoy's eyes traveled around the room, not pausing on where Harry sat covered by the invisibility cloak.

"Stop playing me, Potter," Malfoy snapped. "Get out from under that bloody cloak." It wasn't very bright of Malfoy to use his name like that, but then again, who else would understand the pictures he sent but Harry himself?

Harry threw off the invisibility cloak, his wand at the ready but not raised. No reason to make Malfoy jumpy. "You came," Harry said in lieu of a greeting.

"Obviously," the other boy drawled. But his stance was still tense. "Your message was almost impossible to understand, you know. The stupidity of it alone let me know it was you."

Harry shrugged. He wasn't going to trade barbs with Malfoy. It was a waste of time. "You understood it though."

He and Malfoy glared at each other for a few moments, not quite knowing what to do. Where was John? No sooner had he thought that did two figures practically fall in through the door. John held a hooded figure's arms behind its back, twisting for good measure.

"Looks like your friend here doesn't want to play nice," John snapped, gesturing roughly towards Malfoy with his head.

Harry looked from the figure to Malfoy. He honestly hadn't thought Malfoy would try to set him up. Then the hooded figure spoke. It was a woman's voice, not a man's. "Let go of me you barbarian," she snapped.

"Oh why didn't you just ask before," John responded sarcastically. But Harry recognized the voice.

"John, let her go," Harry said. John looked at him like he was crazy. The look on Malfoy's face told Harry all he needed to know. "Please."

He tried to communicate to John that he knew what he was doing. He really hoped John would trust him here. John finally nodded, pushing the figure away from him. He palmed a flame and slipped something into his cloak pocket.

The robed woman pushed back her hood, revealing hair almost as white as Malfoy's and aristocratic features, pulled back in a sneer.

"Hello, Mrs. Malfoy," Harry said neutrally.

John grinned. "He brought his mother?" Harry didn't return the grin. This alone showed that Malfoy was serious. He wouldn't have let his mother come or even have told her about it if he wasn't seriously considering the offer. Dumbledore had after all offered to help both Malfoy and his mother.

"Potter," Narcissa Malfoy returned in a similar voice. "Who is your friend?" she asked delicately as if John hadn't just practically man-handled her.

John moved from his position near the door to sit on a questionable stable chair. "Pyro. John. Voldemort's son. Whichever," John answered.

"_You_ are the Dark Lord's son?" she asked, holding back a sneer. John just grinned at her, shaping the flame into streams which he let weave through his fingers. Show off, Harry thought somewhat amused. But Harry also knew that John was making a point, trying to intimidate the Malfoys. "We heard that you had been found. Had been sighted on the Hogwart's Express even. I did not know whether to believe it. The Dark Lord's only heir standing beside Harry Potter."

Malfoy meanwhile was eying the flame John was playing with. "You were with him in Diagon Alley and at the Ministry."

John nodded. Mrs. Malfoy finally turned her eyes towards Harry. "Potter, how can we know that you have the power or authority to help us?" she asked. Malfoy stepped back behind his mother. Harry was amused that Malfoy had deferred to his mother.

"You wouldn't take 'trust me' for an answer, would you?" Harry asked. Mrs. Malfoy glared at him pointedly.

"Your attitude alone does not inspire faith," she told him.

Harry sighed. "Listen, I don't have to be doing this. I could've just left you with no out, stuck in your own house with a monster I know both of you despise. I could just walk away now."

"Then why don't you?" Mrs. Malfoy said. She was studying him now. Harry recalled the summer before sixth year, standing toe to toe to this woman. They had been the same height then. Now Harry was taller. This time he faced his rival's mother with confidence, not anger or hate.

"Because Dumbledore offered Malf-Draco a way out," Harry responded. She nodded. "And because I knew he was in too deep and did nothing about it."

"That's not true," Malfoy snarled. "Snape told me you tried to do plenty about it. Tried to sick that old fool Dumbledore on me."

Harry glared at him, taking a small step forward. "That fool is dead because of you," he spit out. "And even as you threatened him with death, he didn't hate you; he tried to help you."

"He tried to delay his death," Malfoy said. His gaze was full of hate. "That man never tried to help me. The only thing he cared about was this war, and how to help his precious Harry Potter."

Had Malfoy been desperately waiting for Dumbledore's help? Harry's faith in Dumbledore shook. Dumbledore had known Malfoy was in trouble, but let it play out. Was the war the only thing his mentor cared about? But Harry shook such thoughts out of his head. All that he knew of Voldemort, this war came from Dumbledore. He had to trust the man because what else did he have to go on?

Harry sighed. "Voldemort isn't your only option. We still have a chance."

"We will not fight the Dark Lord," Mrs. Malfoy told him, moving closer to her son as if she was a moment away from leaving.

"I'm not asking you to," Harry responded. Mrs. Malfoy looked at him with more interest while Malfoy steeled his expression. Harry took a breath, sneaking a glance at John who seemed to be studying Malfoy quite closely. He hadn't spoken to the Order about this. They would be furious with him for making a move like this without them. But John would back him up. Because John's loyalty was not to the Order, to the Light, but to Harry himself. Harry wouldn't take advantage of that, but it did give him confidence now.

"We have a safe house," Harry said. John finally looked at him, eyebrows raised. He shrugged so Harry continued. "Our headquarters actually."

"And you would allow us to live at your headquarters," Mrs. Malfoy responded doubtfully. "What would your Order say?"

"Doesn't matter," Harry said firmly. "It's my house, my decision. They'll just have to deal with it."

"How should we know that they won't just kick us out?" Malfoy asked, eyes moving between Harry and John, before landing on Harry. It was kind of creepy. He was used to seeing those eyes full of hatred and anger but now there was nothing there. Creepy.

"You're kidding right?" John said, moving closer to Harry. "Do you really think that they'll overrule Harry Potter?" Harry glanced at him. Of course they could overrule him. He had no power over them. That was all McGonagall.

"Ah, yes," Malfoy sneered. "Their precious savior." Okay, this was the Draco Malfoy that Harry knew.

"Goes a long way," John shrugged. "Will they go against their last hope? The only person my father is even a little bit afraid of? It's pathetic but they'll do as he says."

"I can't promise that," Harry glared over at John. He made Harry sound like he held power over the Order, the very people who spent years protecting him. Harry turned back to the Malfoys. "But I know these people. They won't turn you out. You've done nothing wrong."

"The blood in our veins, the Dark Mark on my son's arm will tell them otherwise," Mrs. Malfoy said. But she wasn't challenging him. She was doing something else. Harry really wished Hermione was here; she would know exactly what was going on. But a quick glance at John revealed that maybe he didn't need Hermione. The smirk of John's face told him that they had already won.

"We don't care as much about blood as you do," Harry told her, unable to keep the disgust out of his voice. "Sirius Black? Nymphadora Tonks? The same blood runs in their veins."

"My cousin is dead," Mrs. Malfoy said flatly. She used the word 'cousin' but did that really mean anything to her? Both Sirius and Mrs. Malfoy had spoken of each other in tones of disgust. "And Nymphadora has never been a member of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black." Mrs. Malfoy paused. "We will not have to fight?"

Harry shook his head. "What kind of resistance would we be if we only protected people willing to fight? Not everyone's a soldier."

"But to let us into your headquarters with questionable loyalties?"

"All I need to know is that your loyalty is not to Voldemort," Harry nodded over at John. "The Order took John in not even knowing that."

John grinned. "They let me into their club not even knowing that."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I think it had something to do with the truth serum. You made it pretty clear your loyalties." To me, Harry thought. That thought still made his stomach turn. It still made Harry want to forget about the word and lay down. Let John take care of him. Take care of John. But he was Harry Potter and as long as there was a war he could not do that. And given the most recent prophecy, it seemed as if as long as he was alive, it would be the same.

"See, I think they let me in on your say so," John returned, but Harry wasn't sure if John was just doing his part in convincing Mrs. Malfoy. That wasn't exactly John's style. Helping people wasn't even a given, never mind convincing people to accept his help. He probably couldn't care less. Now, if Malfoy were a few years younger, John would probably be fighting just as hard as Harry. It seemed as if there was an age limit for John's sympathy.

Harry had to tear his eyes away from John. He had gotten caught up in their bickering for a moment. Mrs. Malfoy and Malfoy were watching them closely. Harry could still feel John looking at him. John's hand slid behind Harry as he made as if he was simply leaning back into a more comfortable position. What the fuck was he up to? John's leg brushed against Harry's.

And then Malfoy grinned a very familiar grin. The one that said Harry had just handed over ammunition for Malfoy to harass him with. They could be standing outside the Potions classroom right now.

"Now this is great!" he said. His eyes were still traveling between Harry and John. He stepped closer so that he was about even with his mother.

"Draco," she warned. But he ignored her.

"Don't tell me, Potter, that you went queer for the Dark Lord's son." Now this was the Draco Malfoy that Harry remembered. Why did he feel bad for the guy again?

Harry didn't know what to do. There were so many variables and options to consider. Would they leave and tell Voldemort? Stay and ruin Harry's reputation? He hesitated too long. Malfoy had that look on his face that he usually had when he won.

Mrs. Malfoy was measuring Harry and John up. Harry couldn't stay silent anymore. "I don't think my personal life is any of your business, Malfoy," Harry said.

"The Weaslette's got to be heartbroken. How will she ever live without her hero boyfriend?"

"Draco. Enough," Mrs. Malfoy snapped. She turned back to Harry. "Potter, do I have your word that you will protect us?"

"You have my word that I will bring you to a safe place and give you the opportunity for protection," Harry responded. "I can't promise active protection. Frankly I don't have the time and have more important things to do."

Malfoy was glaring at Mrs. Malfoy who had again stepped so that she was partially in front of him. John had his eyes on Malfoy. It was in moments like these that Harry wished he knew how John's mind worked. He had after all, purposely given all the signs for the Malfoys to deduce their relationship.

"Can you promise that your headquarters is indeed safe?" she asked.

"It's under the Fidelus," Harry explained. "Even if the Death Eaters know where it is, they wouldn't be able to access it without the Secret Keeper themselves giving the location."

"That did not work out for your parents. Nor did it work out well for my cousin," Mrs. Malfoy continued.

"That's because Sirius didn't remain in the house," Harry admitted, trying very hard not to think about whose fault that was.

"Not one of your finest moments, eh Potter?" Malfoy sneered, flicking a cursory glance over at John.

"Tell me, Malfoy," Harry began. "What was your finest moment? Letting Death Eaters, Greyback, into Hogwarts? Setting up Dumbledore's death? Or, nowadays? Cowering behind a half-blood bastard preaching blood purity."

Malfoy raised his wand. It would be stupid for him to do anything but Harry knew that Malfoy often cursed before thinking when angered. He could think of several incidents. Like Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. So Harry pointed his wand right back at Malfoy. John still had fire in his hand and Mrs. Malfoy made a move for her wand. And came up empty.

Malfoy seemed to come to his senses, dropping his wand to his side, turning to his mother who had begun to frantically check her pockets. Harry, too, lowered his wand.

"Looking for this?" John asked. He had put the fire out and was now instead absentmindedly fiddling with a wand. He looked at it in mock curiosity.

"How—" Mrs. Malfoy began.

Harry grinned. "Did you pick her pocket?"

John shrugged. "You told me to let her go. You didn't say she could be trusted."

"Give me my wand, boy," Mrs. Malfoy said, voice like nails.

"You know," John said lightly, twirling her wand. "I never liked being called 'boy'. My dad used to do that, you know the one that isn't a homicidal maniac with an unhealthy fascination with a teenage boy."

"A fascination which seems hereditary, don't you think?" Mrs. Malfoy replied similarly.

John looked at her and made a face. "I really hope you're not implying that Voldemort wants to—"

"Oh, God," Harry caught on. "Don't say it out loud. And that's not what she meant." He looked eagerly towards Mrs. Malfoy for confirmation.

"Indeed," she said. "Now, my wand?" She held her hand out for it. John didn't budge but continued to play with the wand.

Harry rolled his eyes. Now John was just playing her. Sometimes Harry found this side of John funny, but sometimes he took it too far. He enjoyed, at least partially, seeing people suffer, Harry realized. That realization made him sick. This was Voldemort's son.

No. Harry shook his head. This was John and John just never knew when he took a joke too far. "John." He glanced at Harry. "Give her wand back so we can get this over with."

John seemed to think about it for a moment. "How about we get this over with and then she can get her wand back."

"Potter," Mrs. Malfoy said warningly.

John wasn't fully playing with her, Harry realized. John had evaluated the threat level Mrs. Malfoy and Malfoy posed. Two-on-one, John must have been convinced that they could take Malfoy down easily. He wasn't risking two-on-two.

"What can I say?" Harry responded. "Let's do as he says, shall we? What's your answer?"

Mrs. Malfoy glared at them. Talk about ungrateful. But Harry supposed this was difficult. She was leaving her husband behind, her views. And by leaving, she was betting both her and her son's life on the underdog. A seventeen year old boy against the most powerful dark wizard in who knows how long.

It wasn't Mrs. Malfoy who answered. "Yes," Malfoy said quietly from behind his mother. She whirled around to face him. "Don't look at me like that, mother. Dumbledore was going to protect us. If I had only lowered my wand lower I wouldn't have had to—" Malfoy suddenly broke off, turning to Harry. "I don't like you, Potter. Hate you actually. Same with Muggles, Mudbloods, Half-breeds, you name it." Then Malfoy finally actually looked at Harry. "But that doesn't mean that I want to kill them. Or that I think they deserve the disgusting things the Dark Lord does to them. I'm in. And so is my mother."

Mrs. Malfoy didn't argue and Harry stared at Malfoy for a moment. A year ago, maybe even a couple of months to go, that wouldn't have convinced Harry that he was doing the right thing. Malfoy's prejudices hadn't changed. But now, Harry knew that shades of grey existed, making things more confusing.

"Very well," Harry responded, nodding slowly. He walked over to the two Malfoys and leaned in towards them. For their credit, they didn't flinch back. "The headquarters of the Order of Phoenix is located at Number Twelve Grimmuald Place," he whispered. He pulled back. "I believe you're familiar with the place, Mrs. Malfoy. Aim for the library."

The four disapparated.

* * *

><p>John was slowly getting used to apparating. It helped that, on occasion, apparation had come to be associated with sex in his mind (after all, sometimes the bedroom is just too far). As the Malfoys glanced around curiously, probably despite themselves, he turned to Harry. "Since when are you the Secret Keeper?" John asked. He didn't like that he hadn't known this.<p>

Harry shrugged. "A couple of days ago I spoke with McGonagall. We figured she was too far a way to serve as a convenient Secret Keeper so I got the job."

John grinned. Harry was learning. "Which conveniently allows you to smuggle a couple of Death Eater refugees into headquarters without having to tell anyone."

Harry seemed to fight back a smile. "Well, that too."

"As fascinating as Potter's ability to lie is," Narcissa broke in. "I would like my wand back." John shrugged and tossed it back to her.

They heard voices coming up the stairs. Harry swallowed. "Right. I need to go break the news to the others." He turned to John. "Stay here?"

"Whatever," he responded, throwing himself into a chair.

"I'll come with you Potter," Narcissa announced.

Harry paused. "That kind of defeats the purpose of me telling them before they see you and try to kill you," he said as if he was speaking to a child. John grinned, sitting back to watch. He loved when the less saintly side of Harry came out to play.

"Then I'll just have to trust you to be a gentleman and protect me, now won't I?" she responded easily. Draco scoffed, probably at the idea of Harry being a gentleman. John privately agreed. Despite Harry's ability at politeness and kindness, he didn't really do gentlemanly.

"Right," Harry said slowly, looking doubtfully towards John. "Well, I guess it's your funeral. Means I get to do less talking which I'm usually all for. Let's go."

With one more 'what did I just get myself into' glance at John, he left the room with Narcissa.

That left John alone with Draco.

"So," Draco drawled. "How long have you been banging the famous boy-who-lived?"

John eyed him coolly. Well, this could be fun. He shrugged. "How long have you wanted to bang the famous boy-who-lived?"

Draco turned pink. Pink, not red. John got a kick out of that. "What do you mean?"

John leaned back. "I'm good at picking up signs of lust. Like when your eyes focused a little too long on Harry…or a part of Harry. Looking at him when it would make more sense to look elsewhere." He grinned. "Plus, your reaction right there just confirmed my suspicions. I wasn't actually sure before that."

Draco had enough good sense not to argue. "That would explain your little show back there then," he said, trying to mimic John's position. John figured Draco may have been better at this once upon a time. But months of exhaustive fear probably made it hard to get back into the game. "Potter may not have noticed it but I didn't miss it. Marking your territory?"

"You weren't meant to miss it," John slid his lighter out. He leveled his eyes on Draco. "And trust me. I don't have to mark my territory. You're not a threat." But nevertheless, he didn't like Draco ogling Harry. His Harry.

"Then why put on the show," Draco smirked. It looked less impressive with the dark shadows under his eyes which John could see more clearly now in the better lighting.

John shrugged. "I've always been a completely asshole. I just like to rub it in that I have something you want."

"I doubt Potter would appreciate you talking about him as if he were a piece of property," Draco continued to drawl. One thing John could give Draco was that he had the ability to sit completely still, giving nothing away physically. John didn't have that particular skill. He couldn't be still. It was the only time he could feel the burn. But as John was always in motion, his movements rarely gave something away. "He believes in everlasting love and happy endings."

John smirked. "I think it'll surprise you to find that your Golden Boy is a lot darker than you think." He paused. "Besides, Harry wouldn't be surprised. He'd actually expect it."

Draco just looked at him but didn't say anything. They sat in relative silence, the only noise John's lighter. _Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click._ John found it soothing. He could feel the potential for fire. He could feel that it was there and ready. He only needed to move his thumb in a small extra motion to have the fire at his call. _Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click._ Draco began to squirm. John let out a small smirk. _Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click._

John didn't know how long they sat there like that. He had to give the kid credit. John could tell how annoyed Draco was but Draco kept silent, tried not let it show. Finally, Harry and Narcissa returned, Lupin trailing in after them.

Narcissa's face was unreadable. Harry's face looked slightly guilty and slightly satisfied. So he had won but, being Harry, felt bad about it. Narcissa gave Draco a small nod to show that they were staying.

Harry ran his hand through his hair. "Draco," Lupin gave a small smile. He looked like crap today. It must've been near the full moon. "It is good to see you again."

Draco looked at him doubtfully. John himself was wondering whether Lupin was being sincere. But then again, Lupin could be amazingly accepting (and John suspected forgiving). John knew that Lupin actually legitimately liked him. The man was easy to please.

"Thank you…" Draco trailed off. "Professor Lupin." Lupin was a teacher? That would explain the patience of a saint the man had.

Lupin's smile widened. He clearly hadn't expected to receive such a greeting, as in a fairly respectful one. Lupin turned to Harry. "We have that guest room on the third floor that's open. The one on the second is currently occupied by Kingsley."

"Wait…why?" Harry asked alarmed. This was news to John as well.

Lupin's smile faltered. "I'm afraid that his home was raided by the Ministry this evening. Needless to say, he needs a place to stay for a while. That is if that's alright with you?"

Harry looked slightly sheepish. So Harry had played the 'my house' card. Lupin's eyes glinted. John glanced at Harry amusedly. Harry had no idea that Lupin was teasing him.

"We may have to play with the room arrangements," Lupin told the Malfoys kindly. "Tonks is staying at her parents' for a while," Lupin told Harry. "So I can take the couch. That should free up a bedroom."

John rolled his eyes. "Why don't one of them just take my bedroom." He avoided Harry's intense look. Harry had clearly been thinking something similar but was too scared to offer. Harry was easy to read and John felt slightly guilty that the same could not be said for him. But only slightly. It did give John an advantage after all. "Harry and I only ever use one bedroom at a time anyway."

"Oh," Lupin said. John suspected that, though Lupin knew they were having sex, he hadn't known that they were practically living in the same room nowadays (admittedly alternating whose room).

Narcissa's eyebrows rose. "You allow this?"

Lupin looked at her surprised. "They are both of age and I have no authority. This is not my house and neither are my wards, so to speak."

"Allow?" John practically whispered at Harry in utter disbelief.

Harry rolled his eyes but couldn't resist smiling. "Yes, amazingly John, there are people in the world who believe that a seventeen and nineteen year old who are…"

"Screwing?" John offered helpfully. Harry glared but didn't blush. Even without the blush, though, it was still fun.

Harry continued without missing a beat, "…sure, we'll go with screwing….should be living together. I think it has to do with social norms and family reputations or some other nonsense."

"Nonsense?" Narcissa asked at the same time John said, "Good thing neither of us have families."

Harry actually snorted at that. At a 'no family' joke.

Lupin interfered before John could further mess with the woman. "Well, if that's the plan, perhaps you should collect your stuff. And Harry? Change the sheets please."

John smirked as Lupin bravely kept his feelings out of those words. When was he going to accept that Harry was a big boy and could have sex if he wanted to?

"Come on, Malfoy, we'll show you to your room," John offered. Lupin narrowed his eyes suspiciously at his helpfulness. Harry looked at him similarly.

In silence, Harry, John, and Draco made their way to John's room. John threw open the door and looked around, wondering where to start. He paused for a moment. He was packing his stuff up and moving into someone's room. This wasn't like sharing a room with Bobby. Harry wasn't going to be his roommate. Harry was someone John was romantically involved with. And, for all intents and purposes, John was moving in with him.

John shook the thought out of his head. They were merely making more space in the house. Plus, now Harry and John had an excuse to be in a bedroom alone all the time. A bedroom with one bed.

"You're a mess," Draco said, looking around at his room.

John shrugged. "Most of the clothes are relatively clean. Did laundry fairly recently." John began picking up clothes and throwing them into one of the bags in the corner of the room. John held up one of Harry's shirts. He glanced at Draco for a moment before looking at Harry. "Is this mine or yours?" he asked.

Harry rolled his eyes, grabbing it. "Mine."

John began picking up clothes. "Potter," Draco snapped. John looked over at Harry who didn't appear to be doing anything wrong. Just helping John throw clothes into a bag.

"What?" Harry asked, annoyed. Harry's patience was clearly running thin.

"I know your association with Muggles and Muggle lovers may have confused you, but you are a wizard you know," Draco continued. Harry looked at him cluelessly. "Use your wand, moron."

"Oh," Harry said, pulling out his wand. And then, "There are spells for packing?"

John grinned at Harry's confused and reluctantly fascinated expression. Draco, however, looked at Harry as if he was indeed a moron. Finally rolling his eyes, Draco flicked his wand and John's clothes flew into the bags. Handy. Draco looked at the books and raised his wand.

"Hey, hey," John snapped. "Don't touch my books."

Draco stared at him. "Why?"

"I don't need you damaging them," John glared. Draco picked up a particularly worn book, eyebrow raised.

"The spell won't hurt your precious books, Pyro."

John looked at Harry. "He's probably right," Harry admitted. "Your clothes look neat enough." John nodded at Draco who rolling his eyes finished the job.

Harry meanwhile turned towards the bed. "You do know that there are spells that change sheets too, right?" Draco asked derisively.

Harry nodded and then reluctantly paused. "Ummm…what are they again?"

If possible, Draco's look got more demeaning. "Do you do _everything_ like a house elf?"

Harry glared at him. "No, I don't run around bowing and kissing people's feet. Oh, wait. That's you…not a house elf."

The two glared at each other. Draco sneered and Harry looked like he was about to raise his own wand.

"As fascinating as this is," John said. "Malfoy here seems fully capable of changing his sheets. I think there are other things we could be doing right now."

Harry nodded, and moved towards Johns bags. With one final, pointed glare at Draco, Harry waved his wand and levitated John's bags out of the room, following. John stopped Harry right outside of his room, the door still opened.

"Wha—" And John pulled Harry into a rough kiss. He bit at Harry's lip as he pulled away. Harry looked at John curiously for a moment, gaining back his bearings before turning to leave. "Coming?" he asked.

John nodded, hooking his fingers into belt loops of Harry's jeans. He glanced in on Draco who was watching them. Draco noticed John looking at him and turned pink for a moment before turning back to the sheets.

John smirked. He had just gained more entertainment. Draco would be stuck in the house with his mother, John, and Harry for a while. Draco's sexual frustration was bound to grow. And so would John's fun. Train with Harry in the morning, fuck with Draco during the day, and fuck Harry at night. And then promptly rub it in Draco's face the next day. John really was an asshole.

A.N. I am by no means a Harry/Draco fangirl. I think a relationship between the two would be impossible (not to mention book Harry is probably straight). Saying that, however, one cannot deny that Malfoy has an unusual fixation on Harry. Of course this is probably from jealousy, maybe over Harry's fame or even his life in general. But for certain plot lines such as my own, this fixation could also be interpreted as some sort of attraction/lust. But lust not love. While I'm going to try to stay true to the Draco Malfoy of the books, his character may change a bit because, things that happen in your life change you and this is a different path for Malfoy. And don't worry. This won't be a fic where gay people pop out everywhere, but it is more than conceivable that more than two characters in this whole story could be gay.


	23. Doing What is Necessary

_Mutant Son_

Warnings: Violence, torture.** Dark, rated M for a reason.**

A.N. I love my reviewers, I truly do. And everyone who has added my story to their story alert or favorites list. Thank you. Now, three notes: (1) I'm sorry about the typos last chapter. I try to avoid them but since I'm updating so fast it's hard. (2) Harry's not exactly going to be like how he was DH. This is sort of a what if Hogwarts hadn't fallen with the Ministry, what if Grimmuald was still a safe place, what if Harry stayed and the Order remained a resistance movement. After all in DH, they mostly seemed to wait for Harry to make his move. In this story, Harry is making a lot of moves. Saying that, not all events of DH are going to be ignored. (3) Perhaps I should apologize for making Remus and McGonagall such gossips? But they do it so well. And most of the time their gossip is related to real concerns they have, right? (4) This is where the story gets darker (**Please be warned though, I do mean dark) **and also speeds up. I can't believe it's taken me 22 chapters to go through about 5 months, but showing the development of their relationship was so essential to the story.

**Chapter 23: Doing What Is Necessary**

Remus sat in the drawing room, using his hour of free time before the meeting to think some things through. He couldn't fully believe that the Order was now sheltering two Malfoys. He had thought he'd never see the day. But then again, Harry was full of surprises.

Admittedly, the Malfoys' presence definitely made things more difficult at headquarters. The Order now had to make sure that the meeting room was carefully warded during meetings, a problem they had to deal with for only the second time later tonight in fact. And more precautions had to be made even when simply having a conversation, private or tactical. But Remus agreed with Harry: it was the right thing to do.

Remus remembered Draco from his teaching days. Spoiled but intelligent, Draco made the worst kind of bully because he knew the value of words. He knew what could hurt people and used it, much like John. But John at least used that ability less often. He wasn't a bully like Draco, barring John's current behavior towards Draco, but he could be cruel when provoked. And Remus admitted: it wasn't hard to provoke him.

He remembered that Draco hadn't liked him (purebloods like the Malfoys rarely did), but the boy worked hard in class and was actually quite talented. A waste of talent really. Draco made clear his opinion on "half-breeds." That's why Remus had been especially surprised by the hesitant respect with which the boy had treated him in the last two weeks.

Then there was Narcissa Malfoy who remained polite but cold, especially towards Remus and the Weasleys, though she tended to treat Minerva and, surprisingly, Harry with more respect.

As if summoned, Narcissa made her way into the drawing room. She paused at the door upon seeing him, but soon continued into the room. "I have come to see the Black Family Tree," she told him. "That is if you will allow it."

While spoken with no intonation in her voice, Remus knew she was mocking him, not liking that he had greater authority and status in this house, her own family's house, than she did.

Remus nodded politely. "Please do."

She silently studied the tree. Remus could have been hallucinating but he could've sworn that she paused briefly where Sirius's name used to be. And then again on her sister Andromeda's.

"I understand that you have married Andromeda's daughter?" Narcissa looked towards him. So not completely hallucinating. Narcissa had not met Tonks yet. He only nodded. She continued her inspection.

"You know," Remus started off hesitantly. "We could arrange…if you want that is…for you to meet with your sister." She didn't respond. Soon the awkward moment was relieved by Minerva's entrance.

"Hello, Narcissa," Minerva said neutrally. "Would you give me a moment alone with Remus?"

"Certainly." But she paused at the door. "I've been meaning to request something, actually."

Minerva nodded at her to continue. "Would someone please do something about Potter's hooligan of a lover? He has been harassing Draco since we arrived."

Remus sent her a grim look (even as he was amused by Narcissa's use of the word 'lover'). He had noticed this, too. "I'll talk to him, but I doubt it'll do anything. That boy listens to no one but Harry and even then only on occasion."

"Very well. I shall speak to Potter then." Her look told him that his inability to control John spoke to his inadequacy as a leader. He was relieved when she left though he worried that she really would speak to Harry. John's behavior had been obvious to those who carefully observed him (and knew of his relationship with Harry). But Harry hadn't a clue, which really wasn't much of a change when it came to Harry and relationships, or positive attention at that.

Minerva closed the door and cast a silencing charm around the room. "Convenient of her," Minerva said as she sat. "That was exactly what I had sought you out to discuss. We have some time. The Weasleys are only just now filtering in."

"So…" Remus trailed off. "I guess we should get to it, then." He looked at her, indicating that she should broach the topic. This wasn't exactly something that would affect the war.

"Well," Minerva swallowed. "Do you perhaps have any insight into St. John's motives for treating young Malfoy so terribly?"

"Ah, the question of the hour," Remus said. "I have two theories, actually. Either John is bored and has found a convenient target or he's…staking a claim so to speak."

"Draco Malfoy?" Minerva asked. "Interested in Potter?"

Remus shrugged. "Maybe not interested but perhaps attracted. Crazier things have happened. Really John is the most likely person to notice if that is the case."

"What do we do about it?" Minerva asked.

"Nothing." She opened her mouth to interrupt but Remus continued. "This has nothing to do with the war, just teenage drama."

"You and I know, Remus, that there is no such thing as just teenage drama when it comes to Potter," Minerva said sadly. "Somehow it all comes back to this war and You-Know-Who."

"I—" but before Remus could complete his thought, they heard a scream. It didn't stop. It was Harry. And then John's voice.

"Someone! Help!"

Remus and Minerva flew out of their seats (Remus did not have the time to be fully impressed by Minerva's agility. She was after all, no longer a young woman). They raced into the hall and up a flight of stairs.

Harry was convulsing on the floor, screaming. Another vision. Why had they started to hurt so badly? It took only a moment for Remus to conclude that this was the worse episode he had yet seen. And Ron and Hermione were at Hogwarts. The hall quickly filled up.

It seemed as if the entire Order plus the two Malfoys were standing by.

John searched out Remus from where he was kneeling next to Harry, not touching him, seemingly unsure of what to do. "Do something!" he shouted at Remus.

Remus did not have to be told twice. Remus flew to Harry's side in an attempt to hold him down, to keep him from hurting himself and even possibly comfort him. Harry's scar began to bleed.

When Remus tried to touch him, Harry jolted away from his touch, still seizing. Harry's hand moved to his head. He attempted to touch him again with the same result.

His screams had died down but Harry still lay there holding his head. "No," Harry whispered. "No, no, no." And then that fateful word. "Johnny!"

And John was there, looking scared, and when he touched Harry, Harry leaned into his touch, now almost whimpering. John half-knelt, half-sat next to Harry and hoisted him so that Harry was partially on his lap.

John's arms wrapped around Harry and he rested his forehead on Harry's, mouth near Harry's ear. His words were soft but the bystanders could undoubtedly hear. But John probably hadn't even seen them. "I'm here, Harry, I'm here. It's okay. I swear to God it's okay." And then he went into another mantra, this one quieter. "Come back. Come back. Come back. Come on Harry, come back."

And Harry began to calm down, his body stilling, his breathing settling. Remus glanced briefly at the hall's occupants. Looks of worry but also shock were planted on each of their faces. Except for Narcissa and Draco. Narcissa's face was unreadable. And Draco looked…curious, perhaps was the best word.

"Johnny?" Harry asked softly.

"Yeah, I'm right here," John responded, voice relieved but the worry was not gone. Harry curled into him. Remus looked on, at a loss. He had never seen Harry this vulnerable, not when Sirius died or when Voldemort had returned or even after other visions, visions which used to only occur in his sleep, rarely while he was awake. Remus couldn't stand to consider the possibilities. He never wanted to see Harry this vulnerable again. Remus suspected it was the vulnerability, not the vision that continued to frighten John as well.

"John," Remus said softly, kneeling beside him, careful not to touch Harry. John looked up at him. No smirk, no grin, no cocky attitude, just seemingly surprised to see Remus there. It was then that John looked for guidance. He too was at a loss, in unfamiliar and uncomfortable territory. But John had done wonderfully so far.

"We should get him into bed. He should be more comfortable there," Remus said, still speaking softly. It was as if a spell had been cast, all was deadly silent and speaking into the silence was like breaking the spell.

John nodded, attempting to pull away from Harry as Remus raised his wand. But Harry grabbed onto John and wouldn't let him go. Whatever it was that Harry saw-felt-was still in his head, still torturing him. John looked to Remus even as he ran his hand through Harry's hair.

"Your room is just down the hall, if we both support him we should be able to get him there," Remus told the boy gently. "Can you tell Harry that he needs to let me touch him?"

"Yeah," John's voice was kind of rough and he cleared his throat. "I mean, yeah," his voice now clearer. "Harry, Remus is going to help me carry you. You're gonna have to let him touch you. I swear it's only Remus." Remus looked at John when he called him Remus. Not Lupin.

And this time, when Remus went to help, Harry did not flinch away. He and John supported Harry's weight and Order members moved out of their way, but they followed behind them. Narcissa grabbed her son and dragged him away. Curious.

John and Remus got Harry into bed and John climbed in after him, continuing to hold him. He began a new mantra. "It's gonna be okay. It's gonna be okay."

Remus gave one final worried look at the two boys. John had it under control. Physically there was nothing they could do.

He turned and ushered the Order members out, closing the door behind him. He wished he could've done it sooner. John and Harry didn't need to be a spectacle. But Remus had been too focused on them at the time. "Shall we?" he asked, gesturing down the stairs, voice still shaky.

Subdued, the group made their way to the drawing room, taking seats as McGonagall performed the necessary spells. No one spoke.

Minerva and Remus exchanged glances. Everyone in the room looked worried, Molly and the twins in particular, but shocked expressions still remained.

"Potter…and Pyro?" Kingsley asked in disbelief, breaking the silence with his deep voice. After all, though the episode was bad, they had all seen or heard of such visions happening before. John's addition to the equation, however, was new and shocking.

Remus nodded.

"You knew?" Molly asked. Remus couldn't quite recognize her tone. When Remus caught his own wife's gaze in the back, she looked back at him angrily. Uh-oh.

"Yes, we both did," Minerva cut in, seemingly deciding that Remus had done enough for the evening.

"How long?" Arthur asked. Remus swallowed. They were all in states of shock. These were people that Harry did not need to be Harry Potter for, at least not all the time. People he cared about. If they took this poorly…Remus could not bear to think about it. Homosexuality, while not usually publicly prejudiced against, was still somewhat of a taboo in the wizarding world. Never mind bisexuality which seemed to perplex most wizards. They had fallen behind the muggle world on that front. The focus on marriage and the producing of heirs may have been growing more antiquated in muggle circles, but in the wizarding world it still held strong.

"I don't know exactly. Remus?" Minerva asked. Okay, apparently she wasn't going to completely save him from this.

"In one way or another," Remus began, for despite Harry and John's fighting, it had never been over. "Maybe a couple of weeks after Mad-Eye's death." He cleared his throat. "I figured it out myself though. And after I spoke to Harry, I couldn't break his confidence."

Tonks' eyes softened but not by much. Arthur seemed to accept this answer but Molly had taken to staring at the far wall, hand over her mouth. Fred and George seemed to have mostly recovered.

"Blimey," Fred said, looking at his brother.

"Certainly didn't expect it from Harry," George agreed.

"Dating our baby sister and all," Fred went on.

Remus nodded absent mindedly, again turning his eyes to the group. Those that did not quite know Harry as well, like Bill, Fleur, and Charlie, looked somewhat uncomfortable. And while Tonks looked upset with Remus, he knew that she was one of the most accepting people he had ever met. She would be fine with Harry and John. Maybe not with him but that wasn't so odd these days. He wasn't spending enough time with his own wife.

Silence reigned again.

And suddenly it was broken by a knock on the door. One of the Malfoys? But when Tonks opened the door, John walked in. John had gained back his composure though he was still disheveled. Why had he left Harry? Remus didn't want Harry alone right now.

All eyes were turned to John. He met all of their eyes in his preferred cocky manner. "Voldemort has just tortured and killed five Ministry workers."

He glanced briefly at Remus but there was no emotion there. "Five workers who Peter Pettigrew failed to kill. Voldemort has left him there petrified, in a pool of blood. Voldemort said he'd have someone fetch him when he feels that Pettigrew has learned his lesson. It's already being covered up." John paused, giving everyone a moment to digest this. "Harry said that Voldemort wanted these people dead for a reason, a very important reason, one that Pettigrew knows."

"So what are you saying?" Tonks asked.

"Pick him up. Bring him here. And get some answers," John said simply. Remus wondered where the John from just a few minutes ago had gone. And for him to leave Harry after how John had just behaved over him…

"We can't bring a Death Eater into headquarters," Arthur said, eyebrows flying into his hair.

John shrugged. "Erase his memory. Keep him prisoner. Whatever."

Though John hadn't said it, Remus knew these suggestions, no orders, were coming from Harry. And John wasn't telling them everything.

"How do you expect us to get our answers?" Kingsley asked, evaluating John. Kingsley too knew where John's words were coming from.

"He'll tell us. We're sure of it," John responded. There was the first admission of Harry's involvement here. Remus was relieved that Harry was well enough to think this out, but he had no idea where this was going, or how it was going to end. But from how it sounded so far, both John and Harry seemed to have hardened their emotions for what's next.

"Very well," Minerva replied. Wasn't it she after all who, months before, said a time was coming when she wouldn't be leading the Order? "We'll send a team. Remus, you know Pettigrew, you will take lead. Kingsley and Arthur shall join you." Remus nodded along with the two others.

* * *

><p>The first thing Remus noticed was the smell, amplified by his werewolf senses. Then Remus saw the blood and the six bodies. John hadn't told them everything. Voldemort had eradicated these five, not simply tortured and killed.<p>

Remus found the petrified body he was looking for. Wormtail. His blood boiled but he calmed himself. When he looked into Wormtail's eyes, he saw fear. Good.

He looked to the others. "Let's take what we came for and move on."

Arthur and Kingsley had been examining the bodies. Standing, Arthur swallowed. "The bodies are too damaged to identify." Poor Harry. Had he seen all this? Felt it?

Exchanging grim looks and casting one more look at the bodies, they returned to headquarters with their prisoner.

Remus, Arthur, and Kingsley brought Wormtail down to the basement which, through some clever transfiguring, had been re-arranged into a cell and a viewing room in their absence. Arthur and Kingsley left Remus with Wormtail, Arthur patting him on the shoulder as he left. This man had essentially killed two people Remus had loved, orphaning a little boy. This man had murdered one of his students. One of the brightest.

Remus chained him to the wall and, casting one final look, joined the others in the viewing room. Those allowed in this room had been limited to only himself, Minerva, Kingsley, and, not so surprisingly, John. He hoped Tonks did not feel too snubbed, but the four present were the senior members of sorts and John was their connection to Harry, the youngest of them all but that didn't mean anything anymore.

"So what is the plan from here?" Remus asked John, whose eyes were glued to Wormtail.

"We get our answers," John said emotionlessly.

"You mean we torture him," Minerva sounded resigned. Wormtail had once been her student. This must be difficult for her. but they all knew it was necessary. They were sinking down to the Death Eater's level, but Harry had said that Wormtail had invaluable information. Harry had ordered it, the boy who had refused to kill. It had to be important.

"I'll do it," Remus said. He feared himself when a part of him felt satisfaction.

"No," John said sharply. "Harry said not you."

"Why not?" Remus asked angrily.

"Because it's too personal. You wouldn't be able to come back from it," John answered, and while he looked directly into Remus's eyes, Remus still couldn't see emotion there. "And Harry cares about you too much to let that happen."

"Well, since Harry has thought out everything, who gets to do the honors then?" Remus asked shortly. He knew Harry was right. And though he was annoyed with Harry for trying to protect him, a man that held him as a baby, he was also touched that Harry cared enough. Remus didn't deserve it.

John only looked at him and Remus's insides turned to ice. "No," he said immediately. "No, John. I don't care what Harry says."

"What? Remus, what's going on?" Minerva interjected, looking between John and Remus. John moved towards the door.

"Anyone care to un-petrify him? And make sure he can't transform?" John asked.

Minerva looked horrified as she caught on.

"You say I will not come back from it. What about you?" Remus asked, beginning to panic for the boy.

John's gaze was dark. "I'll be fine." He gave a humorless smirk. "It's in the blood."

Why was Harry doing this? Harry was protecting Remus but not the troubled boy Harry almost undoubtedly loved. He was sending in John, who had killed without thinking and then broken down once he realized what he had done. John didn't deserve this and Remus felt a flare of anger at Harry.

Kingsley stepped forward. "I will undo the spell." When Remus and Minerva looked at him incredulously he sent them his most serious stare. "It is necessary, Remus, Minerva. And Pyro is the best choice. Potter is right."

And that was that. Kingsley, it seemed, didn't see the boy John was, only the weapon he could become. Had they really come to this?

The answer of course was yes. Their victory at Diagon Alley meant nothing and who knows what Harry and John were doing at the Ministry. The bottom line was that they were losing, had almost already lost, and if things were just a little different, the only thing they would've had was some impossible hope. Somehow they were continuing after Dumbledore. But without Dumbledore they had to take risks, make hard decisions. Harry made a hard decision by ordering the capture and torture of Wormtail. A decision Remus would never be able to make. He suspected the same could be said of Minerva.

Remus and Minerva watched as one of Harry's first orders was carried out. They both knew it was necessary, but to be done by John? And Remus could only wonder why he hadn't tried to stop John, to overrule Harry.

Kingsley quickly cast his spells and re-joined them.

John and Wormtail looked at each other. John lit and re-lit his lighter and Wormtail seemed to call on any Gryffindor courage he had left. "Who are you?" he asked, beady eyes focusing on John's face, then his lighter.

John squatted down in front of him, far enough away that Wormtail wouldn't be able to reach him. "Your master's son," John answered simply.

"The mutant?" Wormtail asked like it was a dirty word. And to Voldemort it would be.

"He's finally caught on has he?" John asked, almost good-natured. "Took him long enough really. How'd he figure it out?"

"The Dark Lord tracked you to New York," Wormtail said. "St. John Allerdyce is not exactly a common name. And to find out you went to a school for mutants? The Dark Lord was disgusted. Yet, before he could make a move on the school a curious thing happened. Someone claiming to be the Dark Lord's son showed up on the Hogwarts Express. By Harry Potter's side, a fire mutant it appeared." Wormtail's eyes began to focus on the lighter in John's hand.

"I won't tell you anything," he continued.

"You will," John said, taking on a neutral tone. "After some persuasion." And then John flicked his lighter and summoned the fire, allowing it rush towards Wormtail, before holding it inches from the man, who had closed his eyes in fear.

Remus was relieved to see that John held back, to see whether he could get his information without resorting to torture.

"You won't hurt me," Wormtail said, thinking John's pause was unwillingness to follow through. "You good guys wouldn't know how."

"Good thing I'm not a good guy," John said, shrinking the fire and, like a snake, allowed it to travel Wormtail's arm, getting closer and closer to skin. And then fire met skin and Wormtail hissed.

John remained kneeling in front of Wormtail, letting the fire very slowly burn at his skin.

"Still not telling me anything?" John asked.

"You can't imagine the pain, I'll go through if I tell you," Wormtail practically squeaked. "This is nothing compared to the Dark Lord." But his face told otherwise.

"It's not Voldemort you should be worried about." John let the fire grow and Wormtail cried out. It must have started burning hotter because Wormtail let out a piercing scream. A scream that lasted for minutes, not seconds. John's face was emotionless and Remus's stomach twisted, perhaps in fear. The only time he had ever been truly scared of John was at Diagon Alley. He did not like the feeling.

John began pulling away the flame, only to let it burst out again as Wormtail seemed to fractionally relax. The fire skimmed Wormtail's skin, doing only enough damage to cause Wormtail severe pain without causing him to pass out. Remus closed his eyes. John knew too well how to do this. He had done it before. But unlike last time, John pulled the fire away fairly quickly.

John stood. "I'm wondering where the best place to target next is," John said, cocking his head as he studied Wormtail. "It's always about which body part to maim. My personal favorite is either the eyes or well…actually it was kind of funny last time…you see I burned some man's dick practically off. He told me all I wanted to know then."

Remus listened in horror, wishing that this was all talk, hoping. But John had never told them what he had done on the streets. Was this it? A mutant who could control fire would be invaluable to anyone tolerant enough to utilize him.

And Wormtail finally looked terrified beyond compare. Was this how he looked at Voldemort? Did he now experience the same fear in front of Voldemort's son?

"Hmmm…" John pretended to think before grinning at Wormtail. It was a very familiar grin, one he had seen on John many times. "I think I'll start with the eyes. Gotta save something for the grand finale, you know?"

And John shrank the flame so that it was no thicker than a quill. He let it almost float slowly towards Wormtail's left eye. Wormtail desperately closed his eyes, turning his face away.

"Okay!" he shouted, practically sobbing. "I'll tell you anything you want!"

John pulled the fire back. "What's Voldemort got planned? Why did he kill those people?"

"An attack," Wormtail practically cried. "On Hogsmeade, next Wednesday. The Dark Lord plans to use it as a base as he prepares to take Hogwarts! Those men were doing something in preparation for the attack. I don't know what."

John lit his lighter. "I swear!" Wormtail cried. "I don't know!"

"When on next Wednesday?" John asked.

"Early morning. Four a.m. when people will be at their most vulnerable!"

"Do you know anything else? And be truthful or, next time, I won't be nearly as nice," John said, now leaning against the wall Wormtail was chained to.

"There will be wards against apparation and portkeys," Wormtail breathed, trying to catch his breath between sobs. "Nobody's getting in or out."

"Well, we'll see, won't we?" John responded, straightening up.

"What are you going to do with me?" Wormtail asked, sobs dying down now that it seemed John was leaving. His body was covered in burns, nothing that couldn't be fixed with a spell or two. Remus suspected it was the speed of John's attack, not the severity of the burns that had done the trick.

John only looked at him. No emotion. And then his lighter was open, the flame jumped and engulfed Wormtail. Remus leaped into action but stopped when he knew it was over already. Wormtail barely even had a chance to scream. He was dead within seconds. But John let him burn until only ashes and the silver hand were left. And then Pyro turned to leave.

Minerva and Kingsley looked at John as he entered the room, shock written on Minerva's face, and just a little bit of fear. Kingsley, meanwhile, though not complete unaffected, seemed to be evaluating John. He had no problem allowing John to be a weapon though Remus doubted he would ever actively make him one.

John raised his eyebrows as if asking if they had something to say before turning to leave. Remus grabbed John's arm. John yanked his arm out of Remus's grip just as quickly.

"John," Remus said, perhaps a bit dazed. "Harry wouldn't have wanted you to do that. He—"

But John interrupted him. "Who do you think gave me the order?"

And Remus gaped for a moment. "Harry—"

"Did what was necessary," John finished, and with one final look around the room, John left and this time, no one tried to stop him.

* * *

><p>Perhaps John should've felt bad about what he had done. He had at Diagon Alley. But he hadn't meant to kill anyone then. He just lost control. This time he knew perfectly well what he was doing. And the man deserved it. He deserved more. John had made the death quick. Harry's request. Do as little harm as possible.<p>

Besides, he couldn't feel bad for his actions when he entered their bedroom to see Harry curled up on the bed, passed out. Harry had told John about the vision. He told him it was the most pain he had ever felt. More than being tortured by Voldemort. And the worst part was feeling Voldemort's sick joy at his actions. John couldn't imagine. He had tortured (twice now) and killed, but at least he had never enjoyed it.

John threw off his shoes and changed into a t-shirt and sweats. He climbed into bed as quietly and gently as possible, not wanting to wake Harry up. It was useless, because as John's head hit the pillow, Harry's eyes began to open.

"What happened?"

John reported everything Wormtail had told him. When he finished, they laid there, looking at each other for a few moments.

"You didn't have to," Harry said, his voice hoarse. "I would've done it."

"You're too weak right now," John said firmly. "We needed the information as soon as possible. Besides, I'd never let you do that."

Harry closed his eyes for a moment. Opening them, he said, "I shouldn't have let you do my dirty work. I should've—"

"And like I said before," John interrupted firmly. "What would you have done? Could you have done it when it came down to it? Could you have caused him enough pain that he'd rather suffer at Voldemort's hands than yours? I could. I told you. Who else here would even know how?"

It was an indication of just how tired Harry was. He didn't ask for more details on John's past transgression, not before, not now. Harry closed his eyes again. His scar was still a nasty shade of red and the shadows under his eyes made him look deathly sick. John brushed his hand over Harry's face. Harry opened his eyes.

"I ordered it," Harry said softly. "I…I'm becoming like him. Like Voldemort. I feel it. I feel the anger and hatred. I'll be no better than him by the time this war is over."

"No, never," John said. His chest literally hurt right now. "You'll never be like him. Because you'll always put others before yourself. You'll always put yourself on the line because you care too much. It's what I hate about you."

"Hate?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, hate," John said, looking into Harry's eyes. "Because one day you're going to get yourself killed. And you would do it willingly."

Harry didn't deny it and John closed his eyes, only for a moment. If Harry died where would John be? Harry would march to his own death if it meant saving even one life, never mind a whole world. That wouldn't change after the war. One way or another, Harry was going to get himself killed. Even weak and exhausted, Harry had planned to risk his own soul (for torture would weigh on Harry' soul more heavily than most) so that others wouldn't have to. Like Remus.

John opened his eyes. "Promise me something?"

Harry looked at him cautiously. "What?"

"That you'll do everything you can to survive this war." Even as John said it, he knew it was a hopeless request.

"I can't promise you that," Harry said, his hand now brushing against John's face. John tilted his head to kiss Harry's hand as it neared his mouth. A soft kiss. Nothing sexual about it, which scared John because he never knew he was capable of that.

But John wasn't giving up. "Then promise me that you won't willingly walk to your own death. That if you go down, you'll go down fighting."

Harry looked at him for a moment or two, seemingly thinking. "I promise to try. No matter how bad it gets, I'll keep fighting, keep surviving as long as I can." But Harry couldn't look at him as he said this.

"Until they ask their precious savior to give himself up like a sacrificial lamb. To die for them. Trying means nothing," John scoffed but he felt like screaming. "And you'll do it because you're Harry Potter and no matter how many times you say you're 'just Harry', you'll always be Harry Potter."

Harry didn't say anything, just moved closer to John. John knew there was no point in continuing this conversation. They would get nowhere so it was best if they just pushed it out of their minds. That was how they had survived so long.

They laid there: Harry mostly on his back but leaning towards John and John on his side, head laying just above Harry's shoulder. John put his hand under Harry' shirt. Skin on skin was just a comfort.

Harry broke the silence. "Hey John?"

"Yeah?" John asked, kissing Harry's shoulder lightly.

"Can I call you Johnny? I mean probably not all the time but you feel, I don't know. Just sometimes you just feel like Johnny. Not often, but enough." Harry didn't look at him as he spoke, staring at the ceiling.

John smiled. It seemed that, in his tired state, Harry's mind was jumbled enough for him to ramble. Harry didn't usually ramble. That was John's thing, in certain, extremely awkward situations. Harry didn't mince words, stating everything in as few words as possible.

"Have I stopped you yet?" John asked.

"I've called you Johnny? Harry asked. John nodded. "Oh."

Had Harry only ever called him Johnny when not totally in his right mind or completely out of it? Knowing Harry, probably yeah. It would be the only time Harry didn't have the presence of mind to hold back.

"There are only two people in the world that are allowed to call me Johnny," he said, moving closer to Harry so that his hand was resting on Harry's waist, not stomach.

"Let me guess. Bobby." Harry had attempted a neutral tone but his voice slipped. John didn't know why, but sometimes he liked that Harry was jealous of Bobby, though it was irritating most of the time. Was John jealous of Ron or Hermione? No. But John supposed it was a different type of relationship.

"Yeah, Bobby," John mimicked Harry's tone. "But…" He pressed his forehead lightly against the side of Harry's head. Harry turned his head so that they were looking at each other. It was a slightly awkward position but John wasn't moving. "You're the only one I've ever given permission to use it. The only one I never stopped from calling me that. Bobby bullied his way to it. You? You're just allowed."

Harry smiled and, at any other moment, it would have been one of those brilliant ones rarely seen. But right now he was tired, exhausted really, and still probably hurting.

"Stop thinking," John said as he watched Harry' smile fade and guilt quickly set in. "You did what had to be done. And so did I. More than willingly."

Harry chose not to answer. "Night…Johnny," Harry said instead. And John pushed that too from his mind for a later time, deciding to focus instead on their last conversation.

Sure, Harry could call him Johnny. Because Harry was his, and for the first time, John thought of himself as Harry's.

A.N. Told you, very dark. I'm sorry if that upsets anyone but this was always the trajectory of the plot. But don't get too upset with Harry, or my version of him. Even in DH, though he doesn't want to kill anyone, he uses the Imperius curse when it was necessary and the Cruiciatus in rage. Also, he didn't force John into anything. X3 Pyro shows that John can kill without remorse if he felt driven to it and here John has become an adviser of sorts for Harry even though Remus is by far more qualified.


	24. Coming to Terms

_Mutant Son_

A.N. Oops. Thanks everyone for informing me of my mistake. I thought it odd that Ch 23 and 24 had the same word count. I'm so glad people have seemed to accept the dark turn. Thank you again. Again I remind everyone that this doesn't exactly follow DH. But as for why attack Hogsmeade…I promise a surprise next chapter. The Malfoys don't show up much here, I know. But they do have their roles to play eventually. This chapter will be awfully slow as compared to the last few but some things need to be said.

**Chapter 24: Coming to Terms**

John had hoped that no one would be in the kitchen at three in the afternoon. It wasn't exactly meal time. But he was wrong and from the sound of the voices, there was a group. John sighed. He really didn't want to deal with this right now but as he had finally convinced Harry to eat some food, there came the actual task of getting food. And he needed the kitchen to do that.

He swung the door open and walked in, only sending a cursory glance at the group: Tonks, Remus, and two people he didn't recognize. A hot black girl with long hair and a black guy with dreads.

He continued in as if he had no interest in any of it because, really, he wasn't curious enough to deal with it. As long as they stayed out of his way it was fine. The room's occupants didn't try to talk to him either. Not even Remus and John didn't feel bad about that. And when had he started calling him Remus?

Now came another problem. John couldn't actually cook. He could make sandwiches, toast, and heat up soup or other canned products. Maybe Mac-n-Cheese. They had once been his staples in what felt like another life. Another life that sent its baggage with him.

John opened a cabinet to find dishes. Wrong cabinet.

He ignored the others as long as he could as he successfully located the bread. Toast? Then they started talking again.

"How'd you find the vetting process?" Tonks asked. She sat as far as possible from her husband.

The unfamiliar girl spoke up. "Pretty much what I expected. Shackelbolt is an Auror after all."

The other spoke, this one a guy. "Who cares what the process was like? As long as we get to fight. It's our war, too. I mean we were in the DA too."

What the fuck was the DA and why did have anything to do with the war?

Toast didn't seem like enough. Harry hadn't eaten since lunch yesterday and after what he had went through yesterday and was about to today, he really should eat more than toast. John should've learned how to navigate the kitchen, or even find stuff. They didn't even have a normal fridge. He was going to have to ask someone.

He faced them and eyes turned towards him. "Is there anything here that can go on bread?"

Tonks snorted. "Butter?"

John sent her an unamused look. "Actually," he said slowly, as if he was talking to a child. "I wanted to know what here goes on bread and can be considered a meal for anyone _not_ in prison." He paused. "Like cheese."

"Can't you just wait for dinner?" Tonks asked, apparently somewhat amused by his response.

John shrugged. This was where they'd give him anything he wanted. "Getting food for Harry."

"Harry can't come down himself?" the girl asked. He figured she was about John's age, maybe a bit older. And she had called Harry by his first name, here that usually meant something, only those close to Harry seemed to call him that. Or at least those he interacted with on a regular basis.

John's eyebrows rose. "Oh, so we haven't let the newbies in on Order business?"

"Today's our first meeting," the guy explained.

"Who are you?" girl newbie asked, before her friend could finish his sentence.

John glanced at her, pulling out his lighter just to fiddle with. He looked up. "See as I've been here longer than you, I get to ask that first. And since I don't care who you are, let's skip that step and move right on to disliking each other. With a chance of hate if you're really annoying."

Tonks snorted again. Attractive. Remus could really pick them. She indicated the less annoying one first and the girl next. "Lee Jordan, Angelina Johnson, meet St. John Allerdyce, resident asshole and wannabe bad ass."

John pretended to consider her words. "Come on Tonks, I _am_ a bad ass." He looked around again. "So about the food?"

Remus finally looked at John from his position reading the newspaper. While he looked like he was ignoring everything around him, John knew that wasn't his style.

"I made you and Harry sandwiches in case you got hungry. They're in the fridge."

"You could've told me before I was forced into conversation with these two," John paused. "And your wife."

John opened the fridge and, sure enough, two sandwiches lay on the first shelf. He grabbed them and went to leave but was stopped again by Johnson.

"So, Allerdyce, what's an American doing in the Order of Phoenix?"

John turned. "Australian actually," he told her and just for the shock value: "And as for doing?" Grand pause. "The boy-who-lived." And he exited, grinning as the door shut behind him. That was so worth it even if Harry got mad at him.

* * *

><p>Harry looked at himself in the mirror. His hair was freshly wet from the shower and he really needed a shave. And while he had mostly recovered, there were still signs of the events from yesterday. His scar was still slightly pinker than normal and his skin seemed overly pale. He sighed, bracing his hands on the sink and looked down from the mirror, taking a breath.<p>

John had left to get food, after nagging him all day about it. It wasn't quite Hermione-level or even Ron-level nagging. He just kept asking Harry if he was hungry, inserting it into almost every conversation while keeping up a detached appearance. It was kind of funny actually.

Harry had expected John to be back by the time he had gotten out of the shower but he must have been stopped. He hoped no one confronted John about yesterday. If they were going to confront anyone, it was going to be Harry.

He grabbed a long-sleeved shirt and jeans, pulling them on before throwing himself onto the bed. The ceiling still hadn't changed. Harry wondered if he should charm the ceiling to do something besides be white.

The door opened and John slipped in carrying a plate with two sandwiches. He was grinning and Harry couldn't help but wonder exasperatedly what he had done now.

John looked up, grin only slightly smaller and raised the plate. "Remus made us sandwiches."

Harry sat up. "So he's not angry?"

John only shrugged. "He was real quiet and let me suffer under the hands of annoying newbies before telling me about the food."

Harry didn't know Remus well enough to actually be able to tell whether that meant he was angry. It was odd that Harry could trust someone without really knowing them. But what he did know was that Remus had never steered him wrong and supported him through everything so far. And the man had suffered so much.

That brought Harry's mind back to Wormtail, the man who had caused much of that suffering. A man Harry hated only second to Voldemort. A man Harry had ordered tortured and killed. He didn't know if he could do that again. Would he be able to give such orders against someone he didn't despise? Would he be able to disappoint people like Remus again?

"You're doing that thinking thing again," John said handing him a sandwich.

Harry didn't even look at it as he took a bite. He practically devoured it. Apparently he was hungrier than he had thought. "That thinking thing? I can't believe I could do something like that," he said between bites. "Something so utterly horrifying."

John rolled his eyes. "You know what I meant." And Harry did but he didn't want to talk about it. The expression on John's face said that he didn't particularly want to talk about it either. He just wanted Harry to stop.

Harry checked his watch. "We have some time."

"We do," John agreed, finishing his own sandwich.

"And I just realized that we haven't made out or anything in at least twenty-four hours," Harry continued keeping a straight face.

"Hmmm," John nodded. "You were unconscious for most of it, though, and that's just not my thing. But I see the problem."

Harry couldn't help it, he grinned and leaned in to kiss John. He tried to intensify the kiss but John kept slowing it, though he allowed Harry to drag him down onto the bed. When Harry pushed against him, John pulled away.

"What?" Harry asked, taking a breath.

"You're barely on your feet as it is and you wanna go a round with me?" John asked, pulling further away.

"But I don't have to be on my feet for this," Harry provided, hoping that the fact he was joking around would get John to give in. It usually did. Not that John refused to do much when it came to him. But then again, what had Harry really asked of him? The obvious answer was torture and kill but he didn't want to talk about it. And there. He was thinking again.

"I'm a bad influence," John said and, though he was amused, he got off the bed and lit a cigarette, which wasn't fair since John got to use fire and cigarettes to relieve any sexual frustration and Harry didn't. Somehow he didn't think jinxing the wall for a half an hour would work so well for him.

Harry sighed, falling back onto the bed. Maybe a bit dramatically but John _had_ told him to stop thinking. It wasn't his fault that John didn't approve of his methods. And John was doing that annoying thing when people tried to protect him. Then he had a thought.

"You know," he said from where he was lying down watching John smoke. John only made a small sound indicating that he had heard him but he didn't turn towards Harry. "Today's meeting is going to be a killer. I'm wound up as it is. I don't want to go in there keyed up."

This time John looked at him. "I know what you're doing."

"Doesn't mean that it isn't true." John's face remained blank as he took another drag. "It won't really help our case if I lose my temper."

And then Harry won though he knew his argument wasn't particularly strong. But then again, John could refuse sexual activity only so many times. He was just like that.

John put out the cigarette and came back to the bed, coming to sit next to Harry. "Fine," John said as he leaned towards Harry. "But we're doing this my way."

Somehow, Harry doubted he'd have a problem with that. John kissed him and again Harry tried to pick up the pace. "I thought I said we were doing it my way," John said against Harry's lips.

"Fine. Then just do something," Harry said, frustrated at John's behavior.

John grinned, much like that grin that was on his face as he had entered the room with the sandwiches. He kissed Harry again, a little harder this time before moving to his neck. His hand slipped lower and started undoing Harry's jeans.

John paused. "My way. You just lie there and look pretty."

* * *

><p>"You just missed your new best friend," Tonks informed Hermione as she and Ron walked into the kitchen.<p>

"John?" she asked. Who else could she mean?

"All sunshine and daisies as usual," Tonks nodded before looking over at her husband. "Hermione, Ron, do you think you can watch these two," she gestured at Angelina and Lee, "While I talk to my husband."

Hermione wondered what Remus had done to get that kind of treatment but she nodded anyway.

"Yeah sure," Ron responded, watching as the two left.

Hermione turned to the two others, "It's good to see you two again. Especially with the war going on. You never really know," she said, taking the seat Tonks had just vacated. Though it was farther away, Ron grabbed the one Remus had just been in as he voiced his own greeting.

They exchanged the usual pleasantries but neither Ron nor Hermione had been close to them at school, at least not beyond the house, Quidditch, and the twins. And it was clear that they were distracted by something. Lee attempted to make conversation anyway. "Shouldn't both of you still be at Hogwarts? Or did you drop out?"

"We were allowed to come here for the meeting," Ron said, shrugging. "Must be a big one. They didn't do that for the last few."

"And Harry?" Lee asked again. "I heard that he didn't go back. Also something about him giving some sort of speech on the Hogwart's Express and You-Know-Who's son."

Hermione smiled. So news still traveled around the wizarding world, if not as specific as they had hoped. Or was it just the DA?

"Yes, Harry just wanted to re-start the DA," Hermione told them.

"And he said something about school unity," Ron said as if he had decided his best friend was insane.

"Yes that too," she said, somewhat exasperated by his tone. She looked back at the other two. "Tonks said we just missed John, though. Didn't you meet him?"

"_That's_ Voldemort's son?" Lee asked, surprised though Hermione couldn't imagine why. If anyone in this house was Voldemort's son, it would have to be John. After all, he wasn't just a stranger, he was also clearly of dubious morality. It didn't take prolonged exposure to him to figure that out.

"Wait," Angelina finally spoke up. "The kid with the lighter?"

"Unless someone else has developed a fascination with that bloody thing," Ron rolled his eyes. John's constant flicking of the lighter always got on his nerves.

"Why?" Hermione asked as she saw the two exchange glances.

"He's…uh," Angelina looked over at Lee, seemingly looking for encouragement. "Well, we just asked him what he was doing in the Order."

"Yes?" Hermione responded, a little irritated at the hesitancy they were both displaying.

"Well, all he said was Harry," Lee continued.

"Harry what?" Ron asked but Hermione had a feeling she knew what John had said. Of course, John couldn't keep his mouth shut if it meant embarrassing someone. Had he decided to expose his and Harry's relationship for his own amusement?

"I see," Hermione sighed.

"Well, is it true?" Angelina asked.

"Is what true?" Ron looked between him and Hermione.

Hermione just looked at him. "Think about it for a minute Ron. I'm sure it'll come to you."

Ron looked at her confusedly before his face blanched. "Uh, Hermione, why didn't you let me just forget? I was enjoying my self-imposed amnesia."

"Who else was here when he said that?" Hermione asked, wondering how much damage control she had to do. And what was she going to tell Harry? She hoped that John did that one himself.

"Professor Lupin and Tonks," Lee shrugged before letting out a short laugh. "Didn't expect Harry was the type."

"What type?" she glared.

Lee looked uncomfortable with the question. "You know…well just never mind."

Hermione looked at both of them. "I better not hear you say anything to Harry about this 'type' business."

"Still protective of him?" Angelina asked, somewhat amused.

"Yes, but you'll find it's more than just me," Hermione responded.

"Like me," Ron added. "Fred, George, actually most of my family."

Hermione nodded. "Not to mention John. You really don't want to get John angry and John gets angry fast when it comes to Harry."

Lee held his hands up in mock defeat. And Angelina gave Hermione and Ron a small smile. "I played Quidditch with Harry," she said. "And we weren't exactly friends but I liked him. And we both followed him in the DA," she continued, indicating Lee as well. "What I'm trying to say is who cares? I mean Harry did date an opposing Seeker. I always knew he had odd taste."

Lee only nodded and Ron grinned. Hermione suspected that, while uncomfortable, Lee hadn't lost respect for Harry. What a stupid thing it would be to lose your respect over.

She sighed. Why couldn't anything ever be simple for Harry? But then again, even when Harry didn't go looking for trouble, he tended to walk straight into it. Even without Voldemort, Harry's life would be complicated.

* * *

><p>Hermione and Ron sat with the twins, Angelina, and Lee towards the back of the room. It was getting near time to start and everyone was there but Harry and John.<p>

"I suppose we should start? Those two boys seem incapable of being on time," Remus looked over at Shackelbolt. With McGonagall needed back at Hogwarts, she had most likely delegated the two of them to stand in for her.

"I think we should wait for Potter," Shackelbolt said, calmly looking around at the members. Hermione found this strange. When did they start holding meetings up for latecomers?

"Should I go get them?" Tonks asked, already standing.

But the door opened and both Harry and John slipped in. Harry's timing was always spot on. Remus cast the privacy spells after John had closed the door.

Harry gave everyone an apologetic smile, flattening his hair unsuccessfully. Behind him, John looked unashamed, only moving to sit on a table where he leaned against the wall, feet resting on the table's chair.

Harry didn't stray too far from him, choosing to half lean on an armchair closer to the group.

"St. John," Mrs. Weasley scolded. "Take your feet off of the furniture."

John looked at her from his position comfortably leaning on the wall. "Harry," he didn't take his eyes off of Mrs. Weasley. "It's your house, isn't it? Do I have to take my feet off the furniture?" John was unfairly mocking Mrs. Weasley, a woman who had been nothing but nice to him.

"I don't care. Put your feet where you want." Though Harry said it absentmindedly, he had willingly overruled Mrs. Weasley. She looked at Harry surprised, perhaps a bit hurt. What was John playing at here?

"Right," Remus inserted. "So as everyone can see, we have two members joining us tonight: Angelina Johnson and Lee Jordan. They graduated two years ago I believe?" He waited for their confirmation. "Have you two met everyone?"

Angelina and Lee nodded, but didn't say anything.

"We should expect new members to slowly trickle in over the coming weeks," Shackelbolt informed everybody. "These are only the first two to be vetted."

Harry looked over at Hermione and the younger Weasleys in a moment of realization. "The DA," he said. "Hermione, do you still have that coin?"

Hermione's face brightened. "Yes, of course!" she said excitedly. She turned to the others. "We used them to communicate so that Umbridge wouldn't find out about us. We can use them to get in touch with other DA members."

Harry nodded. "Or we can make more so that the Order can communicate," he looked over at Remus and Shackelbolt. "No offense but Patronuses aren't exactly inconspicuous."

Remus looked at Hermione with interest. "Perhaps we could meet later to discuss this. It's a fascinating idea."

Hermione smiled, nodding. Why hadn't she thought of this herself?

"Now that we've settled that," Kingsley said, expression unreadable. "Potter, sit down."

Harry raised his head to look first at Kingsley and then at Remus, where his eyes remained. "I rather be standing for this part," Harry said plainly. Only those who knew him as well as Ron and Hermione could tell that he was uncomfortable. What was going on? Harry pulled his eyes away from Remus to glance around the room.

"I've been told what you saw," Harry continued to the group as a large. He sounded tired but unashamed. He looked over at Ron and Hermione. "Secret's out guys. Everyone knows about me and John. Well except for you two I imagine." He said this last part to Lee and Angelina.

"We've been informed," Angelina said kindly.

Harry sighed. "Okay. Then if anyone has a problem with it, relevant to the war I mean, say something. Otherwise it's personal."

How had everyone found out? Did John let it slip like he had in the kitchen earlier? But Harry had said the Order saw something. She really hoped no one walked in on them. By now she suspected that John and Harry were going full out. She can only imagine Harry's mortification if _that_ was seen.

"I know I'm new," Angelina said. "And I guess this doesn't really have to do with your relationship per say. But Hermione told me that he's You-Know-Who's son?"

Harry nodded, waiting for her to continue. It was going to be the trust question again.

"Are you sure he can be trusted?" she asked.

"What's with this thing with people distrusting me because I'm Voldemort's son? The least everyone can do is distrust me because I don't really inspire trust." John's tone was annoyed but Hermione wondered why. Was he tired of going through the trust question? Did being viewed as Voldemort's son finally get to him?

Harry rolled his eyes. "John, shut up," he said, exasperated. So John was only having a little bit of fun. John only sent him a smirk. "Not really the point right now." He turned back to Angelina. "I'm sure he can be trusted. I don't know about anyone else. But John has fought with us in Diagon Alley. He went to the Ministry with me, helped me get some people out. And I _know_ him. Shouldn't that be enough? Or does his parentage nullify all that?"

Angelina appeared sheepish. "Okay."

"Will you sit now, Harry?" Remus asked. Hermione had a difficult time recognizing his tone. It definitely wasn't the tone with which he usually spoke to Harry. Harry didn't say anything, just sat in the chair he had been leaning on. John returned to his lighter.

"We know where You-Know-Who is attacking next: Hogsmeade, Wednesday. And we have until 4 am Wedensday morning to figure out a way to stop him," Shackelbolt said bluntly. Hermione lost her breath for a moment. Hogsmeade? That was too close to Hogwarts. They couldn't lose this one.

"How do we know that?" Ron asked, looking around at the room.

"Harry saw something," Remus explained. For a second, she saw the sympathy on his face. Whatever Harry saw wasn't pretty. "He led us to Pettigrew who we captured and questioned."

"Not that I want to interrupt you, Remus," Mr. Weasley said. "But I am worried about what we're doing with Pettigrew next. That seems to be the immediate question for now. It's a danger to keep him here."

"Pettigrew's dead," John spoke up from the corner, eyes leaving his lighter. His face was blank.

"How?" Bill asked, looking from John to Remus.

It was John who answered. "I killed him."

"What? Why?" Mrs. Weasley asked before Hermione could voice it herself. Killed? It was one thing to kill in battle, but to kill an unarmed prisoner? Mrs. Weasley found Remus's eyes quickly. "He's just a boy Remus, I don't know how—"

"Stop," Harry interrupted, looking straight at Mrs. Weasley. "Remus had nothing to do with this. I ordered John to torture Pettigrew. I ordered John to kill him." Hermione didn't want to believe it and one look at Ron showed that he was thinking the same thing. But from whom else would John follow such an order?

Then Harry continued. "If this is going to fall back on anyone, it's going to be me. Not Remus. Not John."

"Torture?" Mr. Weasley asked, looking from John to Harry to Remus and Shackelbolt.

Shackelbolt spoke to the entire room. "Torture was necessary in this instance. Pettigrew had invaluable information. It's because of Potter's orders, Pyro's actions, that we even know about this attack. For the first time since Dumbledore died, we're ahead of the game."

But Hermione wished that such an order came from Shackelbolt at least. She never thought Harry had it in him. The idea of killing anyone (barring Voldemort) always made Harry balk.

Mr. Weasley, however, nodded. He had accepted the truth along with most of the Order. Fred, George, Angelina, and Lee looked at Harry and his resolute expression steeled their faces. They had accepted it too. Hermione could accept it from Harry Potter, but from Harry? This was her Harry, who despite what he went through was still strong, still believed in a better world.

However, even as people took in the new information, they couldn't help but look at John cautiously, John who had gone back to playing with his lighter, looking bored. They forgave Harry for his part but couldn't forgive John. And Hermione found that incredibly unfair. Granted Harry at least looked like he felt bad.

The Order accepted the orders but not quite who carried them out. Most of them were still suspicious of John. Hermione hadn't thought that John had it in him. But she was upset with herself to realize that wasn't true in the least. She always knew he had it in him. Wouldn't hesitate when it came down to it. Would never regret it. Nevertheless, Hermione hoped they weren't taking it as a sign that he was like his father. John had done it because Harry asked. Why couldn't they understand that?

Mrs. Weasley finally asked the question everyone was thinking. "Why St. John?"

Harry looked at her, half-apologetically though also resolute. "Because John could do it. And because I trust him."

"Oh, Harry," Mrs. Weasley breathed but she didn't say anything else. Harry couldn't look at her. His eyes skipped over everyone to look at Remus and Shackelbolt.

"So everyone knows how we got the information," Harry said, locking eyes with Kingsley. "How about what we're going to do about it?"

"What do you think Potter?" he asked.

Hermione didn't like this. She didn't like what Harry had to do. What Harry had to give up to do it. It took only one look at Harry through these last few minutes to see that he didn't like what he had done even if he knew he had had to do it. And now Kingsley was pushing harder.

She, Remus, Mrs. Weasley and even John, however, seemed to be the only ones thinking that. Everyone else looked determined, prepared. And while the older Order members continued to look at Remus and Shackelbolt, the younger members looked to Harry. Angelina and Lee were only the first of the DA to join up (except for Hermione, Ron, and the twins of course) and more were coming. They had followed Harry once before. It was Harry they were going to look to, not Shackelbolt who they didn't know nor Remus who they hadn't seen in years.

Hermione glanced over at John who was practically glaring at Kingsley. Please don't say anything, she silently pled.

Harry looked surprised. "I don't know," he said, looking around at everyone else. "Isn't that why we have meetings?"

Remus saw Angelina hide a smile in the back. Tonks didn't even bother hiding it.

And then the meeting finally moved past who did what and why, and got down to business.

* * *

><p>Harry pulled away from his position on the living room couch with John, reviewing maps of Hogsmeade. "Hey, Ron."<p>

"Problem, Weasley?" John asked from where he was still mostly lying down on the couch, his hand absentmindedly playing with the end of Harry's t-shirt. Seriously, did he ever sit still?

"Actually, yeah," Ron glared. "Over two months since I've seen my best friend and he can't manage to pull himself away from his psychotic boyfriend."

That was the first time somebody had referred to John as his boyfriend. It felt weird. He just didn't think of John as his boyfriend. John was…well, Harry didn't know what he was. He was John.

"First, he's not psychotic," Harry said, though he wasn't angry. "Second, can we avoid the use of the word 'boyfriend'?" John looked at him, amused. "And finally, I didn't know you wanted to hang out." Harry stood and John just took up the rest of the couch. At least he wasn't being an asshole about it.

"Where do you want to go?" Harry asked as he headed towards Ron.

"Wanted to talk to you alone," Ron said. "But there seems to be less and less space here."

Harry nodded in agreement. He had noticed that too. "We can try the drawing room. If not, my room?"

As it turned out, the drawing room was occupied by Malfoy and his mother. Harry supposed they couldn't stay locked in their rooms the whole time they were here. Without exchanging anything more than slight nods, Harry closed the door. But he couldn't help but notice Malfoy's eyes resting on him a little too long.

"I can't believe you let that git in here," Ron said.

Harry shrugged as they headed to his room. "Like I said. Does anyone deserve Voldemort?"

Ron refused to agree but Harry knew that he had accepted it. Harry opened his door and cleared clothes off of a chair for Ron to sit on. As Harry sat on the edge of the bed, he saw Ron pick up a shirt.

"This isn't yours," he said, indicating a burn in the shirt. "Unless Pyro's taken to lighting you on fire."

"Nope. Haven't been set on fire," Harry said, waiting to see where Ron was going with this.

"A bunch of this isn't yours," Ron continued. And then Harry realized what was up. Ron didn't know that John had moved into his room.

"Yeah, about that," Harry said, running his hand through his hair. He never actually had to tell anyone before. John was the one who made the offer. So what did he say? I'm sharing a room with the guy I'm sleeping with. You know, that guy that you really hate.

"With the Malfoys here, we needed the space," Harry explained, hoping Ron would catch on. But Ron was denser than even Harry. He needed to say it outright. "John and I are sharing a room."

Ron looked at him. And looked at him. "With one bed," he said slowly.

"Come on Ron," Harry said frustrated. "You know what's going on."

Ron winced. "Yeah, but I was perfectly happy not thinking about your sleeping arrangements."

"You asked," Harry pointed out.

"Yeah, and we both know that I'm an idiot."

Harry smiled. "At least you're admitting it now." Ron threw the shirt he was still holding at Harry. They grinned at each other for a moment before Ron looked seriously at him.

"What happened yesterday? Was it a bad vision?"

Harry contemplated lying to him but Ron didn't deserve it. "Pretty bad," he admitted. "Apparently I wouldn't even let Remus touch me."

"That's how the Order found out, huh?" Ron asked. "Pyro had to calm you down."

"It sounds like I was pretty pathetic, actually," Harry winced, running a hand through his hair. "Screaming, whimpering, not letting John leave."

"Yeah, sounds pathetic," Ron offered, trying to add some humor. But his face soon went straight. "And later?"

Harry sighed. "I knew Wormtail knew something, Ron," he said, desperately trying to explain. This was Ron. His opinion mattered. "And I knew it was something big. Wormtail was too scared of Voldemort just to tell us. He had to believe we would harm him. I have to admit I hoped it wouldn't have to come to torture."

"Hey, mate, I'm not arguing," Ron said. "I know Hermione doesn't get it, but I do. I don't like it but it's not exactly Hogwarts anymore. Do we let people die or do we torture a murderer? In the end the choice is clear even if it's a hard choice to make."

And really, Harry thought, there were times when Ron surprised you. When he got things Hermione didn't. And said it in a way that made it sound obvious. Hermione was like a sister to him but Ron was still his best friend. With the exception of anything having to do with Ginny or John, Harry always went to him first.

"How about killing him?" Harry asked. He really needed to hear Ron support him. He didn't remember how important that was.

"What were you going to do with him? Obliviate him until he thought his name was Cheryl?"

Harry snorted and Ron smiled, clearly pleased he had lightened the mood ever so slightly.

But again, Ron became serious. "But are you sure it was the right choice to use Pyro?"

"I didn't want to," Harry admitted. "I wasn't about to make anyone, least of all John, do my dirty work. But John wouldn't let me. Told me I was too weak after the vision. That I didn't have it in me." Harry laughed though he didn't find anything particularly funny. "I think he thinks I'm someone he has to protect. That I have some sort of innocence left in me that he doesn't want me to lose."

Ron nodded. "Well, I'm glad someone's doing the job," he admitted. "Because, really? Who else would you let?"

"I don't need to be protected, Ron," Harry glared.

"Mate," Ron stared at him. "If you dish it out, you have to take it."

Harry just shook his head. That was ridiculous.

"So, you and Pyro," Ron started hesitantly. "It's serious?"

"What do you mean by serious?" Harry responded slowly, not liking where this was going.

"Hermione and me serious," Ron clarified.

Harry thought about it for a moment. He had known since the Yule Ball that Ron and Hermione would end up together. It was inevitable. Were Harry and John inevitable? It seemed like such a long time ago since Harry had met John but he couldn't remember a time when he wasn't at least curious about John. It was also clear that Ron and Hermione were in it for the long run. They had even stopped fighting so much. Was there a long run for him and John? Harry didn't know, couldn't know. The only thing he saw in his future was his stand-off with Voldemort. And Harry and John were too volatile together to be able to tell if the next time one of them said something in anger would be the end of it.

Finally he looked at Ron. "No, not as serious," he said.

"Why not?"

Why was Ron still talking about this? Shouldn't he be relieved that Harry had said that?

"Come on, Ron," Harry said. "You know me and you've seen enough of John to get a basic idea of him. Where do you see this going? It's going to end and it won't be pretty. Doesn't matter how we feel about each other. Seriously or not."

"Harry, do you ever think that you set yourself up for failure?" Ron sighed. "And really? I don't see it ending without a fight."

But Harry didn't know that. While he cared (more than cared actually) for John, John was also still kind of an addiction. It was like if Harry went too long without being touched by John, he got antsy. Withdrawal.

Ron continued. "I don't like him, Harry. He's an asshole and generally not a good guy. But you're crazy about him. Even I can see that. And we both know, I don't see much."

"It sounds like you see enough," Harry mumbled. Seriously, when had Ron gotten so smart? But then again, Ron always had his moments, more often the last year or so. "Ron," he finally said, embarrassed that his voice sounded so sad. "Everything ends. Every good thing in my life ends and ends badly. Why would this be any different?"

Harry really wished he hadn't thought about it. When he didn't think about it, he was content to be with John and just let things be. But now things looked different. Everything ends. But, Harry finally decided, he was going to hold on as long as he could. He was too addicted to let go. And even if it was selfish, didn't he deserve some happiness? At least for a little while.


	25. Harry Potter, Teenager and Savior

_Mutant Son_

A.N. Thanks everyone again. And another update so fast. These scenes are just flying out because I've known exactly how this was going to play out. The next few chapters may be slower. While I know what comes next, I still have to figure out timing and add detail.

**Chapter 25: Harry Potter, Teenager and Savior**

This was nice, Harry decided. John and Harry were sitting in the living room going over the maps of Hogsmeade that Professor McGonagall had been able to supply. For once, they could do this leaning against each other, not worrying about whether they touched or appeared too close for friends. And if one of them looked at the other a little too long, so be it.

Before the meeting the other day, Harry had briefly debated whether to keep their relationship hidden from new members. He was still Harry Potter, after all. But the Order was small and they saw too much of each other for Harry and John to go unnoticed. Something like the other day could happen again. Best be honest. The rest of the wizarding world didn't need to know.

Besides there were more important things to worry about. Like saving Hogsmeade.

"This gives you free range," Harry said, pointing to a spot on the map.

John nodded. "But it's wide open. Not really a good place for me to be if I wanna live."

"You're mutation gives us an offensive edge. You'd be at your best long-range," Harry said, thinking it out. "Yeah, it's open but what if we get someone to guard your back? We can afford to take an Order member out of the fight if it means using your mutation to our advantage."

John eyed him. "Harry, do you really think I'd let some random person watch my back?"

Harry hadn't thought of that. He trusted the Order, some members more than others. They had been protecting him for just over two years now and he wasn't dead yet. Probably an accomplishment since it was not for lack of trying. But John wouldn't care about that. He wasn't going to trust anyone with his life, probably not even Harry.

John knocked his knee into Harry's a little harder than necessary, making a move to fold up the maps. Harry looked up. Draco Malfoy had just entered the room. He looked at them lounging comfortably on the couch.

"Recovered nicely I see, Potter," Malfoy said coolly. Harry glanced at John curiously. "Oh, your boyfriend failed to mention that it wasn't just your followers who saw your display."

There was that word again: boyfriend. Harry really wished that people would stop saying that.

John shrugged. "It didn't seem important. Really, how would you knowing anything be important. "

Malfoy looked at him skeptically. "Which is of course why you so discreetly folded up those papers," he said sarcastically.

Harry sat back to watch John and Malfoy battle it out for the title of either 'biggest asshole' or 'smartest mouth,' he hadn't quite decided which yet. It was nice to not have Malfoy's attention focused on him. At school, Malfoy used to go out of his way to bother Harry and, even when insulting Harry's friends, it was always Harry who Malfoy was messing with. And right now, he didn't want to deal with it. They had only a few days before Hogsmeade and the Order was in high gear. Even Harry's pseudo-lessons were put on hold.

John rested his hand on Harry's thigh and he tried not to jump. That was unexpected. "Actually I thought it was the perfect excuse to stop working," John said, eyes turning away from Malfoy to Harry. He moved to kiss Harry's neck. He pulled away and looked back at Malfoy. "You wouldn't mind would you? This morning just feels like such a long time ago."

Malfoy turned pink, sent them one more look and left. Was he really that bothered by allusions to sex?

"Clever," Harry said sarcastically. "You scared away Malfoy _and_ got to cop a feel. Congratulations." He paused, reconsidering. "But it did make Malfoy leave. If I had known that would work so well, I would've used sex to keep Malfoy away years ago."

John smirked. "Somehow I don't think that would've worked."

Harry looked at him curiously. "What do you mean?"

But John didn't elaborate. Sometimes Harry wished he caught on to things quicker. How did someone as oblivious as him end up with someone who interchanged between subtle and confrontational so quick it was hard to keep track?

Harry didn't have much time to think about it because John had returned his attention to Harry's neck. "We're in the living room," Harry swallowed.

"Mm-hm," John responded, kissing along Harry's jawline.

"And the door isn't locked."

John's lips paused above Harry's mouth. "Don't worry. Shackelbolt is locked in his room. Remus and Hermione are in the library geeking out about that coin thing and, where Hermione goes, we all know Ron goes." John moved his hand under Harry's shirt. "The bitch Malfoy doesn't leave her room. And, well, I think we chased off the other Malfoy."

And this made sense to Harry, as much as anything could make sense as John pushed Harry down into the couch, capturing his mouth in a rough kiss. Harry squirmed. He didn't like being pinned down that much. John hissed.

"Careful, I might just keep you pinned there so you'll do that again," John breathed, nevertheless pulling away from Harry.

Harry sat up enough to catch John's lips again and pull him down so that they were mostly side by side.

"I see I've interrupted something," Harry practically jumped away from John. Great, Mrs. Malfoy. Was this some sort of Malfoy conspiracy?

John sighed, pulling out his lighter and a pack of cigarettes, returning to lie down on the couch much like when Ron interrupted them the other day. Apparently he had given up. He lit one and took a drag.

Mrs. Malfoy wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Would you mind putting that out?"

John looked over at her. "Actually I do mind." Another drag. Harry elbowed him in the ribs and John glared over at him. "What?"

"We already have enough things to worry about," Harry said annoyed. "Stop trying to make more."

"Aw, come on Harry. It's only a bit of fun," John said, pulling out his most charming smile. But it wasn't only a bit of fun, was it? It seemed like John had been being a bigger asshole than usual the last few weeks. And as much as Harry liked John, this was really starting to get to him. He could only ignore it for so long. How could people trust John if he kept giving them a reason not to? And his conversation with Ron was still bothering him. Even forgetting about the war, how could Harry stay with someone who he would always have to clean up after? If he stayed with John, that would be _his_ job, not Bobby Drake's.

Harry ran his hand through his hair. "I'm going to attempt to get some fresh air," he told John, who gave him an odd look. It was clear that Harry didn't want John to follow him. And obviously, John didn't like it. But he was just going to have to deal with it. Harry couldn't actually remember the last time he had spent more than a half hour away from John. He was getting used to it. Harry couldn't afford to get used to it.

"Mrs. Malfoy," Harry nodded as he left the room.

Harry headed to the drawing room. As far as he knew, everyone in the house was accounted for. Well, except for Malfoy but Harry hoped that he had stormed off to his room or something. But Harry wasn't so lucky. In fact, he wondered why he thought things would even go his way anyway.

Malfoy was fiddling with his wand on the far end of the room. Harry paused. It was either here or his room where John was bound to go at one point. So Harry headed straight for a window, pulling a chair over in the process. He opened the window and breathed. He felt so cooped up. He hadn't been out of the house since they found the locket. He could hear the sounds on the street for once. Muggles arguing. Garbage trucks picking up the trash.

"Finally detached yourself from that freak?"

Harry closed his eyes. He was really hoping Malfoy would leave him be. But he knew that was asking too much. "If I ignore you will you go away?" Harry finally asked, eyes still closed.

"As I have had no one but my mother to speak to for weeks, I'd have to say no."

Harry sighed. Great. Malfoy was making him feel bad for him. They really had put the Malfoys in isolation but since all dislike was mutual, it felt like the right thing to do at the time. But that didn't mean Harry wanted to be the person to talk to Malfoy. He didn't think they were capable of talking.

"Fine," Harry turned to face Malfoy. "Throw your best insults. John's a freak. Hermione's a mudblood. Ron's a blood traitor, Remus is a werewolf. Did I miss anything?"

Malfoy had moved closer to him but still stayed near the couches, lounging on one of the chairs as if he belonged. "When you say it like that, it just proves that you have horrible taste in company," he said absentmindedly.

"Oh, so sorry Mister Malfoy," Harry said sarcastically. "Should I have shaken your hand on the train? Joined your lap dogs? Maybe I could have visited your house in the summer. Had tea with Voldemort."

"Don't call me that," Malfoy snapped.

"I didn't call you anything," Harry said.

"Mr. Malfoy," he continued. "I'm not my father."

"Congratulations," Harry said. "You have let go of your mother's apron strings. Or your father's as it is."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Just don't call me that." He paused. "Tea with the Dark Lord? Really Potter?"

Harry shrugged but Malfoy's lack of animosity threw him off.

But Malfoy's next statement fixed all that. "Though I suppose that would be preferable to dealing with his son. At least the Dark Lord is evil. Your little boyfriend on the other hand is just scum."

Harry glared. "Don't call him that," he gritted out.

Malfoy put on an air of surprise. "Oh, did I hit a sore spot? Come on, Potter, you have to know that your boy is scum. He must be a good lay if you put up with him. Maybe I should have a go. What do you think, Potter? Would it be worth the humiliation?"

Harry had tried to keep himself calm, be the better person, but soon he found himself with his wand in his hand and standing toe to toe with Malfoy. This was familiar. This hate. It was nice to hate someone that you didn't actually plan on killing.

"He wouldn't even touch you," Harry snarled. "Wouldn't dirty his hands with a pathetic coward like you."

Malfoy smirked. "Don't worry Potter. I have no interest in your boyfriend."

But the idea of Malfoy and John was now in his head. Harry wasn't stepping down. "You're an asshole, Malfoy." It wasn't a great insult but Harry was almost too angry to think.

That smirk didn't leave Malfoy's face. "Like the great Pyro is any better. I do find it odd that you fight me, but fuck him. But you always were your father's son. Had to choose the biggest piece of trash you could find."

And that was it. Malfoy had gone beyond insulting John. Now he was insulting both Harry's mom and dad. He hit all three sore spots and Harry was practically blinded with rage.

He launched himself at Malfoy. They both struggled to get the upper hand, breaking a table and vase on the way down. Malfoy got a few good hits in. But Harry was angrier and he had always been the better fighter. Harry pinned him down and punched him. Hard on the face. He went to land another punch only to have someone grab him by the midsection and pull him off Malfoy.

Harry struggled, trying to launch himself back at Malfoy. Just a few more good hits. But the person who had tugged him off of Malfoy had him in a good grip.

"Harry." But Harry wasn't going to stop. "Harry, cool the fuck down."

And Harry only calmed down enough to stop struggling. He tore his eyes off of Malfoy as John slowly let him go. "What the fuck is going on in here?" he asked looking from Harry to Malfoy. Harry was too peeved at John for separating them to answer.

"What can I say Pyro," Malfoy said, wiping blood from his lip as he stood. "He just couldn't keep his hands off me."

Harry couldn't believe he missed Malfoy's nose and only got his mouth.

John went stiff. This time it was John who stood toe to toe with Malfoy. "I don't like people touching things that belong to me. You'll want to keep your hands to yourself," he said softly, but the tone was chilling. "Or you'll get more than a bloody lip."

Malfoy couldn't help but let fear briefly cross his face but soon he recovered and his smirk was back. "Threatened, Pyro?"

John went back to Harry, perhaps getting closer than necessary. "Please," he rolled his eyes but his face was still cold. Harry was lost. In fact, he had been lost since John asked what was going on. He had been a little too focused on whether he had at least caused more damage to Malfoy than a bloody lip. And Harry didn't like to be lost.

"Stay out of my way Malfoy," Harry glared. "I mean it." He turned to leave and John waited a moment before following.

John backed up towards the door. "As fun as this is, I expect that Harry has some anger he needs to work off. I guess I'll have to help him with that, huh?"

* * *

><p>But Harry didn't look for John's help. He was angry at John too. So he went down to the basement which had been re-transfigured for training. Harry didn't let himself think about why it had to be re-transfigured.<p>

A dummy stood at the far end of the room and Harry launched spell after spell. A curse, followed by a hex. Repeat. This really wasn't helping too much. It didn't relieve his anger. The dummy didn't fight back.

Harry breathed. He closed his eyes and bit down. He wanted to scream. No, he wanted to damage the dummy. Really damage it. He opened his eyes. A pole of some sort launched itself at the dummy. Whoa.

Harry tried to do it again, but nothing happened. That had to have been him, right? He tried again but again nothing happened. Frustrated he went to the dummy and started hitting it instead. Punching it. Again and again and again.

"You really have some rage issues," John said, walking over to him. Harry couldn't remember whether John had followed him down there. Or had he just gotten there? Soon John was standing next to Harry.

John looked at the dummy before returning to Harry. He studied Harry for a moment.

"How about you fight something that can fight back," John said.

Harry glared at him. "I was and then, as I recall, you pulled me off him."

John smirked before shrugging. "If anyone's going to be under you, it's going to be me." John paused. "And for once I didn't mean that to be sexual."

Harry hadn't stopped glaring at him. While annoyed with John, Harry couldn't tell whether his current anger was really about John or John was simply in the right place at the right time.

"Fine," Harry bit out. "How are we doing this?"

And the John made a move to twist Harry's arm behind his back. But Harry had always been quick. And he had always known that John was a dirty fighter. Harry spun out of the way.

John grinned and they just looked at each other. Harry sent a punch John's way and John blocked it, moving so that he was able to punch Harry in the ribs. Not hard. That was disappointing.

So they exchanged blows, going faster. Neither of them got many hits. Harry was angry and was letting that drive him. And John generally relied on his lighter. Sparring wasn't his thing. It wasn't Harry's thing either so he dove at John, attempting to semi-tackle him without losing his footing. But Harry wasn't completely successful.

Then Harry realized something. John was holding back. Sure John wasn't a great fighter, but he was better than this. So utterly frustrated, Harry overpowered John, pinning him to the wall.

"I win," Harry said, but John only smirked at Harry before going to kiss him, trying to move so that he could control the kiss. But Harry didn't let him. In fact, Harry pulled away.

"I'm angry with you," Harry told him.

John shrugged. "I know." John moved again. Fuck. "But that doesn't mean we both can't have a little fun."

And Harry supposed that was true though he wasn't in the state of mind to really suppose much. Sex didn't always have to be about feelings. And Harry wanted this. And though John tried again to reposition them, John was going to learn how it felt not to be in control. So John gave up and went with it.

* * *

><p>Despite all their planning, Remus knew this was still a long shot. It was finally Wednesday, approaching 4 a.m. and the Order could only wait. Even with a few new members, they were going to be outnumbered. They had inducted a number of new members over the week, some from the DA and one or two of Tonks' friends. Tonks who had hated staying home. She even forgave him just before he had left. She knew it was a long shot as well.<p>

Everyone was in position. They had created a perimeter around Hogsmeade. With how little people they had, it was important not be cornered. They had even evacuated as many Hogsmeade residents as they could without alerting Voldemort that they were there.

They had separated the Order into two teams, one led by Remus and the other by Kingsley. John was on Remus's team and Harry on Kingsley's. Kingsley had wanted them both but John refused to take orders from him. He was on the verge of refusing to take orders from Remus as well when he decided to count his losses. Harry, on the other hand, would benefit from being on Kingsley's team, to learn how to think and fight like an Auror, not the force of nature he tended to be.

Minerva remained at the school. With the battle so close to the grounds, the school had to be her first priority. She let Remus and Kingsley officially set the plans though she had one stipulation. Ron and Hermione were to be at Hogwarts. She said she'd feel more comfortable if they were there.

Remus sent a look over to where Harry stood. Harry tried not to look unsure. He was over thinking. Once the battle begun, Remus knew that Harry would be alright. He saw Harry's eyes travel to John's location though he couldn't be seen. John had decided to take the risk and put himself in a slightly open position, but he had insisted that he could take care of himself. Remus let it go after Harry had.

Perhaps to avoid his unease over the coming battle, Remus decided to mull over what appeared to be his new favorite topic: Harry and John. The last few days had been strange. The two didn't talk much except to strategize for the upcoming battle. But Remus had also never seen them disappear together as often as they had the last few days. Remus wondered if that had something to do with the split lip Draco had been sporting. He sighed. Harry was still a teenager. Unfortunately. Remus had heard these were the worst years. Add a war and everything just got even worse. Harry's boyfriend was Voldemort's son who probably hit Draco, a (ex-)Death Eater for looking at Harry the wrong way. A regular teenage soap opera, only these teenagers were fighting a war.

Kingsley signaled to Remus. A few minutes until four. He took a deep breath, bracing himself. Soon. Remus felt when the anti-apparation wards went up. This was it.

He didn't have time to think about anything else as the Death Eaters appeared. Not as many as he had expected. And soon the Order made its move. Remus shouted out orders as he went but had to focus on his own duels. Every once in a while, he would see a stream of fire fly past, one nearly hitting him. But Remus knew that John had impeccable aim so he kept going.

And then Kingsley went down. Killed or injured, Remus didn't know. And Remus couldn't get orders out to everyone and fight.

"Keep fighting!" It was Harry. And he led by example, fighting off the Death Eater that just took Kingsley out.

Remus fought and shouted orders.

"Fall back! Away from Honeydukes!" Harry shouted. But why? And then he saw John's fire hitting Death Eaters as the Order members got out of the line of fire. Literally.

He had sent a look up to John when it happened. John got hit by a curse. The Death Eater came from his blind side. It wasn't the Killing Curse but that didn't mean anything. Remus was too far to help.

Remus quickly took out a Death Eater who thought he had been distracted. And he looked up only to see a flaming body fall to its death.

John was okay.

Remus continued to fight and, soon, more Order members were standing than Death Eaters, even if just barely. This had been easy as compared to what could've been. Whatever Death Eaters that were left shot off a few dark spells as they ran. The Order did not give chase. They had won and there were wounded to be tended to. And that was where he was heading when he noticed a large group of students running from the direction of the Shrieking Shack. Remus's blood ran cold as he made out Hermione.

Harry ran to her and she threw herself into his arms, holding back her cries. "Hermione. Hermione," Harry put her at arm's length, looking at her. John, a decent amount of blood soaking his t-shirt stopped a few feet away.

"Hogwarts," she breathed. "They took Hogwarts. There weren't enough of us."

Harry went very still but he struggled with control, slowly winning. "How…how did you guys get out?" He looked at the assembled students. Remus only recognized a few.

"The Whomping Willow," she said. "It was the one tunnel to Hogsmeade that wasn't guarded."

"Where are the other students?" Remus asked, counting heads. Maybe fifty, if that.

"Still there," she began crying at this point. Ron was still in there. "Ron…and a few of the others, they started pushing muggle-borns through first. I wanted to stay but Ron told me I had to lead them out. I was leaving as the Death Eaters arrived. Ron caved the entrance in. That was the last I saw."

She was sobbing now. Harry went to hold her but his face had gone extremely pale.

"Harry," Remus said. "If this is true, we need to get out of here."

"But Hogwarts—" Harry started.

"A battle for another day," Remus said as gently as he could. He really didn't need Harry to go off now. "We can't win. Not with these small numbers. Not with so many of us wounded."

"The anti-apparation wards have broken," Arthur said, barely holding it together. He had two children still at Hogwarts.

"Collect the wounded," Remus ordered, not needing to shout. It was too quiet.

Remus himself went to check on Kingsley. His eyes stared blankly at the sky. "Good-bye my friend," Remus said as he closed Kingsley's eyes. But he would mourn another day.

* * *

><p>Harry told the muggle-born students the location of headquarters. They didn't have any other choice. Where were the students going to go? This was going to have to do for now. So Remus had sent them to the drawing room and library which were at least on the same floor. The rooms were probably filled to capacity. He told Hermione to stay with them. She only nodded; she had run out of tears.<p>

Remus turned to tend to the the wounded with the help of Tonks and Molly, the only two others sufficiently familiar with healing spells. He looked around. Most were fine, a few nasty hexes. It had been George and John who had been the most badly hurt. George had lost an ear and the blood had been frightening. Molly had bee-lined to him the moment she saw him, holding it together long enough to heal his ear. But once Arthur told Molly and Tonks about Hogwarts' fall, Molly couldn't hold it together anymore. She had begun to cry, staring into the corner. That left Tonks and Remus.

Meanwhile, John had been hit in the side by a cutting curse and had lost a lot of blood. But he was still standing. Though he hadn't lost enough blood to be fatal by a long shot, he had lost enough for most people pass out, or at least sit down.

At Remus's impressed look, John had given him a small smile, but it was very much forced. He was definitely in pain. Remus didn't know if it was the smile or the effort behind it that gave John away. "It's just like getting stabbed," John explained. And really? That didn't explain anything.

Unfortunately, they couldn't heal John with magic. He wasn't a wizard. When Remus had moved to find some Vicodin that Dumbledore had for some strange reason ensured that they had, John refused, telling Remus to leave him alone. In John-language that was as close to 'go help the others' that Remus was going to get.

Harry had stuck around long enough to make sure that John was okay. But as soon as Remus finished with John's bandages, Harry left and subsequently locked himself in the basement.

Despite whatever pain he might've been in, John sat by the basement door, knocking every so often.

"I'm not going away you know" he growled in frustration, wincing in pain.

Tonks and Remus quickly tended to the most injured first but it seemed as if everyone had been wounded in some way. They quickly became overwhelmed.

But they were in for a surprise. Narcissa walked in and surveyed the injured Order members sitting or lying on any surface in the dining room they could find. She had looked over at Remus. "Would you like my help?" she asked.

And Remus was floored, but he was so tired that all he said was: "Yes, please." Tonks stared at her aunt in shock.

But Narcissa moved quickly and efficiently. She even managed to push Molly aside long enough to cast some spells to make George more comfortable.

"Thank you," Arthur said tightly. Narcissa only nodded.

At some point, Draco came in. There was no confusing the look on his face, even if he disliked most of the people in the room.

Draco looked at Remus. "Where's Potter?" he asked. Curious.

"Basement," Remus answered as he finished up a spell. Draco nodded but no telling expression passed over his face. Remus didn't think further on it. Without Harry, after all, only Voldemort was left.

Narcissa spotted her son. "Draco," she called. He looked over at her, not wanting to get in anyone's way but still stunned. "I believe there are students in the library and drawing room. See to it that none are wounded."

Draco nodded and left. Remus found it funny (and maybe that was shock talking) that Draco was going up to check and/or heal the same kids he had verbally abused at school.

Remus was so tired that, when Narcissa slowly took control of things, he let her. This wasn't about the war right now but he still couldn't figure her motives.

* * *

><p>Harry sat on the basement floor, head in his hands and staring at his feet. Hogwarts had fallen. They had been tricked. Harry wasn't sure what the trick was but he knew it had occurred. Had Voldemort meant for Harry to see that vision? If he had, then Harry was the idiot who fell for the same trick twice. Or did Voldemort only let Wormtail in on the one attack? Clearly, Hogsmeade had been a diversion. But had Voldemort expected the Order to be waiting for him or for them to simply show up to the wrong battle?<p>

Harry clenched his hands, fist enclosing on his own hair.

So many people had been hurt, but as Harry and others went in expecting to lose they had viewed it as an easy victory. But, no. So many people had been hurt-at the wrong battle. And while the muggle-borns had escaped, so many students were left behind. Some only children. To make matters worse, Ron was there. Ginny, Luna, and Neville too.

This was his fault. He had led the Order into a trap. Harry had told them to get Pettigrew, to question him, even torture him. He gave the Order the information that led to this. He had helped the Order plan for it though he refused to lead during the actual battle. Not that that had lasted. Harry tightly shut his eyes. Kingsley was dead.

What had the prophecy said? Gryffindor's heir would either lead the wizarding world to its lightest days or leave it in darkness. Harry had failed. Did McGonagall and Remus still hope the prophecy referred to him? McGonagall who was still at Hogwarts.

"I'm not going away you know."

Harry finally took his head out of his hands, leaning it on the wall. Just go away, he thought. Harry had failed John too. He had agreed to let John put himself at risk. It was Harry's idea, even if his idea involved someone guarding John, and that made it even worse. He had gotten John seriously hurt. He could've died.

Every good thing in Harry's life came to an end. People he loved got hurt. Some died. The ones that mattered most. That wasn't going to be John. Harry had simply put John at risk by falling in love with him. Now that he was going over his most recent failings, it was easy to admit. Yeah, he loved John. And just by loving John, Harry put a bull's eye on him, whether Voldemort or his Death Eaters knew or not.

Harry wondered what the wizarding world thought of him now. The Boy-Who-Lived. The Chosen One. The one that allowed Dumbledore to die. The one who let the Ministry fall, Hogwarts too. The one who could only lead them to darkness.

He banged the back of his head against the wall. He wished he could stop thinking. John was sitting right outside that door. He could ask and injured or not John would come through and not because he was obsessed with sex (though that was still true). It was because, if Harry was being honest with his own feelings the least he could do was take the blinders off as well, John was in love with him, too.

Harry thought about being selfish. About taking comfort in John. Let John hold him. Hold John just to make sure that he still had something in his life that made him more than Harry Potter, the failure. But Harry couldn't do that. He couldn't do that to John who, despite his bravado and cocky attitude, was even more damaged than Harry. Probably more vulnerable too because John had never meant to love.

So Harry was going to do the right thing. Maybe it was the only thing he could still do right.


	26. I'll Leave if You Want Me To

_Mutant Son_

A.N. So I thank my reviewers again, especially those that have commented on every chapter. I very much enjoy your feedback. And because of that, I'm not ending this chapter where I so desperately want to. Or other places I want to. I don't think it'd be fair to cut down the word count everyone's gotten used to. Oh and from here not every battle or skirmish will be written out. There will be enough that I have to just refer to a few.

**Chapter 26: I'll Leave if You Want Me To**

One thing was clear. Harry was an idiot. A complete and total idiot. And John meant Bobby-level idiot. Actually, that was an insult to Bobby. John knew Harry was going to blame himself for Hogwarts' fall. Yeah, it was a big thing but how was Harry supposed to know? It wasn't enough to be the hero, now he wanted to be all knowing?

What John hadn't known was that Harry's guilt was going to lead to him avoiding John. Which was totally unfair because after getting hurt, bleeding all over the place as it was, the least John had hoped for was to be able to spend copious amounts of time in bed. Preferably with Harry. No sex needed because frankly, John didn't actually want to start bleeding again.

The Order members may have gotten the benefit of immediate healing, but John didn't get that. And the only pain killer in the place was Vicodin of all things. John had contemplated asking Remus to get him something else but figured Remus had enough to deal with. Shackelbolt was dead; McGonagall was trapped at Hogwarts; and Harry was hiding away, interchanging between the basement and Hermione's bedroom (and that was morbid considering a few days ago it had been Shackelbolt's). Leaders were dropping like flies.

So, in pain, John spent his nights alone and his days being helpful which was a surprise. John liked Remus. Liked on a Scott Summers level even. And Remus was drowning. While the drama between him and his wife seemed to have died down, the cause behind it hadn't. Tonks was pregnant: surprise. And had been for quite a while. John wondered why they had kept that hidden but he supposed that one was all Remus.

The Weasleys tried to help, finding and manning new safe houses for the muggle-borns and the growing number of Order members. Given the new size, Remus had established a core group, with the newcomers only attending meetings when needed. John had been granted that elite status though that may have been because no one thought Harry would allow anything else. Though these days…

"I'm thinking we should move the Malfoys," Remus announced to John over his cup of tea. John, who had been checking out the Marauders Map Hermione had taken off of Harry, looked up.

"It's probably best to keep them here," John said. "Keep them under a close eye and all. Plus they both ended up pretty useful. Shouldn't more Order members know healing charms?"

Remus nodded at John's suggestion before turning to his question. "Besides the basics, healing charms are quite complicated. It takes years of training to master them."

"Malfoy's Harry's age," John pointed out.

"And has been training as a wizard probably since he was old enough to speak. It's no surprise he knows the charms. He has amazing self-discipline when he so desires."

"Yeah well," John bit out. "Tell him to use that self-discipline to keep his hands off Harry. Or stay away from him completely."

Remus couldn't hide his small laugh and John glared at him. "I don't think Draco will be a problem. Harry feels quite a strong hatred for the boy."

"Thin line," John said unhappily.

"And I think it's quite obvious that, in that sense, you're all Harry can think about."

At any other time, John would probably find that re-assuring. But Harry was currently trying to push John away. The last time John had done that, he found someone to hurt Harry with. And Harry learned a lot of things from John.

"Could you talk to him?" John finally asked, before quickly becoming embarrassed that he asked such a question. He tried not to let it show and he was either successful or Remus decided to take pity on him.

"I think that's something you should do," Remus responded quietly.

John let out a frustrated sigh and then a rather noticeable wince. His side was throbbing. The last time John had been practically cut open, he had plenty to chase the pain away with.

"Are you sure about the Vicodin?"

"Yes, I'm sure," John said, tired of the question.

"It would really help you—"

"Damn it, Remus. I'm sure. Stop trying to push that crap on me," John finally snapped. He was stressed and hurting (on multiple levels). His patience had been long overdue to grow thin.

And John hated that Remus was so observant. It was easier with Harry who was naïve enough not to catch things like this.

"I can go get you something else," Remus said slowly. "Asprin or something?"

"I'm fine," John gritted out, pushing the Marauder's Map at Remus, glaring as he left. But John didn't want to go back to his room which screamed Harry. So he went to the living room, hoping to light a fire to distract himself with.

And he found Malfoy. Great. But John was never someone to back down and show weakness. He ignored the other boy and lit the fireplace, perhaps a bit too strongly.

"You seem to have lost your boyfriend," Malfoy said. "Can't seem to stand your presence any longer. About time really. What did you do?"

John didn't have the energy to argue right now. "Almost got killed. Harry doesn't take kindly to that."

"Potter's avoiding you because of that?" Malfoy asked, apparently out of curiosity more than anything else.

"And because of course the whole thing with Hogwarts is all his fault," John continued bitterly.

John couldn't recognize the look that passed over Malfoy's face at the mention of Hogwarts. "How was Potter supposed to prevent that?" Malfoy finally sent at John.

John made the fire flare. His question exactly. "Tell Harry that." And then he paused, realizing who he was talking to. "Actually, don't tell Harry. Don't go anywhere near him."

"Threatened?" Malfoy asked, which seemed to be his favorite line.

"No," John said simply. "Besides, have you seen what Harry's like angry?"

"Yes, on a regular basis actually. And there was that time he almost killed me." If only Harry had succeeded.

John smirked. "No, you saw a younger, less war-torn Harry. I watched him launch a pipe through a practice dummy." Malfoy looked unimpressed. "Unintentionally. Without his wand." That got Malfoy. "So I'd stay away from him if I was you."

John put out the fire and turned to leave. This was getting on his nerves. "Maybe you should follow your own advice. It's only a matter of time before he lashes out at you. He tends to do that to anyone in range."

"I've handled it fine before," John said lightly. "And it ended in sex which is always a plus. Really, really good sex." John wasn't particularly trying to mess with Malfoy on that point. It was just the truth and John never had a filter.

"Doesn't seem to be ending that way at the moment," Malfoy said as John left. John kept walking because really that wasn't quite the problem, but it was close enough.

* * *

><p>"Not that I don't appreciate your company, but shouldn't you be with John? He's injured," Hermione said, laying on her bed and looking down at the floor where Harry insisted on sleeping. Even after she offered to transfigure or conjure a bed.<p>

Harry didn't answer for a while. "No, I don't think I should," he said and Hermione feared that he meant that on multiple levels.

"He didn't do anything wrong" she asked slowly. "Did he?"

"No," Harry said. "It's just me."

Hermione shut her eyes tightly. He was doing what she just knew he was going to do one day. He had decided that John was better off without him. Safer. Hadn't he done the same thing with Ginny? Hermione had hoped that wouldn't be the case here. She had hoped that he would be just selfish enough to risk it. Not that she thought it was selfish, but she knew how Harry's mind worked.

Hermione was trying to be supportive but she had her own issues. She kept dreaming of the last time she had seen Ron, caving in the entrance to the Whomping Willow. They had been so relieved when they found out that neither Pettigrew nor Snape remembered to tell the Death Eaters that the Whomping Willow was the entrance to a tunnel leading to the Shrieking Shack, basically all the way to the outskirts of Hogsmeade.

And it was extremely unfair of Harry to feel guilty about that. She was the one who had let Ron do that. She, the professors, and the DA had failed to save Hogwarts, not Harry. Hermione had lost Ron, maybe forever, it was no secret that Ron was Harry's best friend. Harry had lost him too and now he was trying to lose the one person that could probably support him through this war. And wanted to. John was a rare catch. Even if he did come with some faults. Okay, so many faults that Hermione probably couldn't name them all.

"Can I ask why?" she finally spoke up, feeling as if she was talking to the room. Harry was so quiet these days.

A pause. "Because I love him."

And if that wasn't the stupidest thing she ever heard. Harry was an idiot. But then again, she got why Harry feared love. To Harry, his parents and godfather basically died for him. Admittedly, there was some truth there. And Harry had never really been shown love since his parents died. At least not in the way a love-starved orphan would need. Even Sirius focused too much on James Potter's son, not so much on Harry.

Hermione chose not to comment, instead deciding to attempt sleep though that had been no easy feat the last few days.

"Hermione," Harry practically whispered. "I'm sorry about Ron."

And that made Hermione comment. "That is in no way your fault, Harry James Potter," she sat up, glaring at his dark form.

Harry said nothing.

Hermione just fell back into the bed aggravated. "Harry, the guilt complex on top of every other complex you have is really annoying. Can't we just hurt together without it being someone's fault?"

Still Harry said nothing.

* * *

><p>Really, how long could Harry keep this up? Another week had passed. John never thought he could get so lonely, at least not since the first couple of weeks after his mom had left. Not that his mom had been much of a mother. But she was at least nicer to him than his dad. And when high enough, she even told him she loved him. Called him 'her baby'. But like everything else, that was a lie.<p>

He thought Harry was different. The last few days he had been especially pissed at Harry. Thought good riddance. That he was better off. That Harry had just thought he'd have a little bit of fun with the bad boy then move on. After all, that's what John used to count on when looking for hook-ups.

Today, though, was different. He had gotten over his anger (which may have had something to do with the fact that he was starting to feel better). John remembered what he had said to Harry the morning of the Hogsmeade attack, when Harry had locked himself in the basement. _I'm not going away you know._

So John made the decision right there and then. He was going to fight back. John wanted Harry and he wasn't going to just give up. Yes, he was partially driven by selfish motives, but there was also a part of him, a large part, that wanted to be the person that didn't let Harry down. Harry had as many issues as John, issues that Harry himself helped John get over, at least some of them. John let Harry in, knowing that could be a mistake but not caring. But Harry wasn't avoiding him to hurt him; no, he was protecting John.

Though John was very much annoyed that Harry thought that he needed to be protected, part of him realized that this was the one time in his life someone actually cared enough about him, St. John Allerdyce, to do that. Bobby didn't try to protect him; Bobby got him through things and fought by his side when necessary. Xavier and Scott protected all their students, just for the sheer fact that they were their students.

So John fought back. Actually he kind of stalked Harry but that was basically the only option he had. He didn't say anything to Harry, just sat outside whatever room Harry happened to be in until it was time to go to sleep. Then he would repeat it in the morning.

One more week and he realized he wasn't making any progress whatsoever. But at least he knew that Harry still cared.

A few of the Order members had gotten into a small skirmish with a group of Death Eaters attacking a small wizarding family. A Death Eater aimed his wand at a kid, probably five years old. John was close enough that he forwent the fire and just decked the guy. He may have said something about the Death Eater being pathetic for attacking a kid. At least something along those lines.

Afterwards, when they had brought the family back to another safe house, the kid had attempted to cling to him. John froze. Didn't respond and, recognizing his discomfort, Tonks had come to his rescue. "Come on honey, let's find you something to eat."

John met Harry's eyes for a moment. The look on Harry's face was inscrutable which was odd because this was Harry. And, every once in a while in the hour or so after, Harry looked over at him. John figured that was at least a small victory.

But the feeling of victory didn't last long. Another week. A month total since Hogsmeade. And John lost all of his patience. Every last inch.

John had tracked down Hermione. "Your best friend can go fuck himself," he told her angrily.

"Your boyfriend has issues," Hermione had responded in turn, voice calm as she looked up from her book. A biography on Helena Ravenclaw.

"Yeah, well, he's not my boyfriend anymore," John snarled. "So it's not my problem."

Hermione smiled and if John didn't like her so much he would've burnt her, at least a little bit.

"I don't think it'll ever stop being your problem, really," Hermione said, finally putting down her book. "Just like your issues will never step being Harry's problem. It's already too late for that. And do you want to know how I know that?" John tried to look like he didn't actually want to know, but the infuriating girl continued. "Because Harry has jumped back into the war, more determined than ever. He told me he refused to fail. Not again. But yet he still avoids you."

"And what does that mean?" John asked harshly. "That he's found me not worth his while?"

"No," Hermione said plainly, smiling again. John didn't think he liked her anymore. "It's because you mean more to him than the wizarding world."

John wanted to tell her that she was crazy, that Harry didn't care about anything more than the wizarding world. He wanted to tell her that her romantic notions didn't work in the real world. Instead he stormed out.

He located Harry in the library where he was going over something with Remus. But John didn't care. He didn't even look at Remus. He grabbed Harry by the arm and forcefully dragged him back to their room, ignoring the pain in his side. Remus didn't stop him. Made no attempt.

Harry struggled but didn't go for his wand. Either Harry didn't want to hurt John, forgot he was a wizard as he tended to do, couldn't get enough leverage to grab his wand, or actually wanted to go with John. John didn't keep his hopes up for the last one. John was going with option a or c.

John pulled Harry into the room, not feeling guilty at all for man-handling him. He'd done worse to Bobby in the past and, frankly, John wasn't a nice guy.

Harry glared at him. He rubbed his arm. "Ow," he said plaintively. Great, now Harry was choosing to be childish.

"Yeah, well, I really don't fucking care right now," John told him, making sure his hand stayed away from his lighter. He really didn't trust himself right now. "In fact, I told Hermione to tell you to go fuck yourself."

Harry's jaw tensed. "I'm sure she's fully capable of delivering the message herself," he said coldly. But John didn't want cold. He wanted fire. He wanted that Harry. He always had.

"Yeah, well, your friend can go fuck herself, too."

Harry didn't come to her defense. Maybe he had decided that those were just empty words, that John wasn't actually angry with Hermione. Which wouldn't technically be true. John was angry with everything at the moment.

"So I figure," John moved on. "That I'll give you a choice."

"So you won't physically accost me if it's not to your liking," Harry said, the glare almost permanently fixed on his face. John bit his tongue. Harry knew what he was doing there. Suggesting what John just did was abuse. But John had heard Harry lash out before. Hadn't Harry said at the time that he hadn't meant it? Then that had meant nothing. Now, it made all the difference.

"You don't need me here," John said, calming himself down. "And I don't want to be here if things are going to be like this. I'll leave if you want me to. Just take off. I'll disappear and my father would never find me. Just say the word and I'm gone."

Harry was silent for a moment. He crossed his arms over his chest, a very un-Harry position. He moved his glare from John to the floor for a minute, biting his lip. John ignored the desire to just say fuck it and dive in for a kiss, just hoping that Harry didn't deny him. A good-bye fuck. Harry owed him at least that.

Then Harry looked up. "Go." John kept the anger on his face though his heart physically hurt. More than his side which was acting up from dragging Harry. But Harry could do more damage to him than a Death Eater ever could. "Just leave. I don't want you here and you're right. We don't need you."

John was going to leave. He was going to do just what he said he'd do. But John was glad he hadn't turned to leave because he just realized that he had one more card up his sleeve.

"That's it then. I'll go," John said. "If you just tell me one thing."

"Fine. What?"

"Tell me you don't love me."

Cue silence. Crickets. Except that it was day time and John had never heard crickets in London. Harry didn't glare at him. He looked at him. And looked at him. Ever so slightly he lost his edge.

Finally Harry looked away. Again his voice was sharp. "Whatever Hermione told you—"

"And what did she tell me, Harry?" John asked, pushing harder. "She told me you cared for me. She never said that you loved me."

Harry ran his hand through his hair. John was winning.

"So tell me Harry. And look at me. Tell me you don't love me."

That set Harry off. "Don't you think that might be the fucking problem!" Harry kicked the chair which went flying into the bed. "That I don't want to love you! That it's going to get you killed!"

John hadn't quite expected this.

"That me loving you isn't a good thing!"

"Say it then. Man up," John snapped, getting fed up with being yelled at. "Should I go first? I love you." John paused, his voice getting quieter but sharper. "I love you. And I don't get what's so hard about saying it if I managed it."

Harry seemed to deflate. His eyes lost their anger. Harry closed them before opening them again. This time his eyes were sad. Sad eyes and messy hair, just like he told Bobby. And reeking of a fucked up life.

"Would you die for me?" Harry asked and John barely heard it.

"What?"

"I said," Harry repeated louder, his voice getting ever so slightly colder. "Would you die for me?"

John didn't need to think about it.

"In a heartbeat."

Harry turned away running both hands through his hair this time. He leaned his forearm on the wall and looked out the window at the street below. Slowly, he turned again towards John.

"Don't you get it?" he asked, voice shaking. "I don't want you to love me. I don't want you to die for me. I don't want you dead or hurt. Yeah, I love you. But how can that ever be a good thing? Johnny, you know how the world works. It's cruel and for people like us, it never lets us win. Never."

John went to him but Harry pulled away.

"No."

John went to him again. Again it was, "No."

He closed his eyes, finally grabbing Harry who didn't fight back. "Harry, you're hurting me now. I don't know how if anything can be worse than this. What would you do if you were in my position? Honestly."

Harry didn't think about it. "I'd fight."

"And you expect me not to?"

"No," Harry looked at him. "But I was really hoping for it."

Harry lost his steam. Harry was so unselfish it was sickening. Really it was one of his worst character traits. But even Harry Potter only had so much fight in him. And John was offering Harry something Harry had always wanted, someone to love him. Admittedly, Harry had always been looking for a parent's love and maybe John's opinion was skewed because he put no stock in family whatsoever, but this had to be better. Even if it hurt more.

"The problem is I'm stubborn and I'll do anything to get my way," John said, hoping to get past the level of drama that Bobby would probably say was only possible for one St. John Allerdyce.

"Yeah, I've noticed. If there wasn't a war going on, I would've gotten a restraining order on you. You're such a stalker."

John smiled. Harry was joking. Things were good. "It probably wouldn't have worked."

"Probably not," Harry agreed, returning the smile even if it was rather strained. Things were very good.

* * *

><p>Harry woke up with John's head resting near his shoulder. He didn't recall falling asleep like this but they must have moved in their sleep. Harry very slowly moved away, hoping not to wake John up. John was an incredibly light sleep so it was a very good possibility.<p>

But John only moved slightly in his sleep, a rarity. Looking at John, Harry felt incredibly guilty for what he put John through the last few weeks. John looked pretty horrible. Even asleep he had dark shadows under his eyes and though Harry had to admit the scruff wasn't bad, it was also very not John. Harry suspected that John also had to be in at least some pain. Four weeks may have passed but that had been an intense wound. And John had dragged a struggling Harry across the house like that.

Harry sighed. He still thought this was a bad decision. John would be safer without him. Harry knew it. But there were other things to think about. Harry was unselfish enough to break up with John, but too selfish to let John just disappear. To leave. Plus, Harry had lied when he said they didn't need John. John had in fact become a very valuable asset and not only on the battle field or even in interrogation. He was smart. Very smart. Definitely smarter than Harry though that wasn't particularly hard. Remus had reported to Harry that in the last few weeks, John had helped him think things out, like how to organize the Order.

He really needed to think about things now. Admittedly, he had four weeks to do so, but true to form, Harry had decided to avoid thinking at all costs. Except when it came to the war. Hermione and Harry had decided to look past Rowena Ravenclaw and move on to her daughter and subsequent generations if need be. All they needed was a starting place.

Harry slowly got out of bed, moving to the bathroom to at least wash his face. He was surprised to see that he didn't look much better than John. Well, he looked at least marginally better which was to be expected considering Harry hadn't been recently cut open or anything.

Harry restlessly turned to return to the bedroom but stopped right outside the bathroom. It was odd. Harry never actually really looked at John. He did see John, of course. He knew where a lot of John's scars were, the exact shade of his eyes, the fact that his hair was a lot lighter when not slicked back. But Harry never just took a step back to look at him.

He had never really specifically thought of John as older than him but it was always sort of there. John was more experienced than him in more than just sex. He got the world even better than Harry because, no matter how cruel Harry knew the world could be, he had yet to actually go out and live in it. Harry knew war better but John knew about everything else.

So standing here, just taking himself out of the moment, he realized just how young John actually was. Harry had stopped thinking of himself as young. He had to when he was trying to convince those older than him to let him fight. And John was two years older than him so therefore, not young. But for the first time, Harry recognized how skewed his perspective was. John was young, especially in his sleep when he didn't have one façade or another up. And his eyes weren't open which meant Harry couldn't see how angry, wary and even sad they were.

That of course had Harry thinking. And everything rushed at him. So he did what he had to. He wrote a note to John just to let him know that he hadn't changed his mind, that he just had to get fresh air. Harry didn't want to make John worry.

And then he left. Left the room. Left the house. Found some sort of park and just sat there. Cedric had died too young. Harry always remembered Cedric as three years older than him but now Harry was Cedric's age. His parents had only been two years older than John. His friends, all those students at Hogwarts, all too young.

So hours passed. And Harry thought over the same things over and over again. Hermione was right. Harry had a guilt complex. But guilt wasn't the emotion building up in him right now. It was anger. How could Harry fight a war when he blamed everything on himself? By blaming everything on himself, he took something away from Voldemort. Something that Harry couldn't take away because then Harry would divide his hatred between two people: himself and Voldemort. And really, it was Voldemort who deserved all his hatred. For the first time, Harry really wanted to kill Voldemort. Not defeat him. Not save the wizarding world.

Harry had promised to never give up. He promised a lot of things. But he never actually truly thought that he stood a chance. Harry wanted to kill and it was in that moment that everything stopped seeming like a lost cause. It was time to make Voldemort and the Death Eaters afraid of something again.

Harry was surprised when the sun started to set. As if his stomach also finally realized what time it was, it began to growl. So Harry got up and apparated back to headquarters. He felt good.

That feeling didn't last long, however. Harry walked into the dining room to see about half of the Weasleys, Angelina, Lee, Hermione, Tonks, and Remus staring back at him. Hermione and Tonks were crying.

"What?" he asked as no one said anything.

It was Remus who stood and made his way to Harry. His expression was unreadable as he laid his hand on Harry's shoulder.

"I'm sorry Harry," Remus said.

"What did you do?" Harry asked rather confused. Then he looked around. "Where's John?"

Remus swallowed. "He's gone," Remus said as gently as possible and it was then that Harry recognized the look on his face. Guilt.

"What do you mean gone?" Harry asked, shaking Remus's hand off of him.

"The Death Eaters have him."


	27. Live Fast and Die Hard

_Mutant Son_

Warnings:** Dark, rated M for a reason.**

A.N. Definite talk of sex. Crude and so very John but also upsetting if not realistic. Just a warning in case it makes anyone uncomfortable. It made me uncomfortable writing it. Alluding to it was so much easier. Also, when it involves Harry, take it with a grain of salt. John after all has his own way of doing things. And now that I've announced that I thank my reviewers again. I know I left it at an evil cliffhanger but there were so many spots I wanted to end it before that point that I resisted.

**Chapter 27: Live Fast and Die Hard**

_Approximately 8 Hours Earlier_

John woke up to an empty bed. Again. He rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling. Great, his boyfriend decided to freak out again. Boyfriend? Was that the word for this? He had stopped correcting people when they said the word but he didn't realize he was actually starting to think it. When Hermione called Harry his boyfriend, John had also used the word without pause. But it still sounded funny to him and he didn't know if it was because they were both guys and the word boyfriend was usually accompanied by girlfriend, or he still had commitment issues of some kind, or even if he simply thought he'd never see the day.

Not that it meant anything at the moment if Harry was freaking out again. Over what John wasn't sure. It could have still been the whole protecting thing or maybe the word love had caused some sort of internal panic. For some strange reason, John found himself totally un-freaked out. But John had known he loved Harry and expected that it was mutual for a while now. Saying it was just a hurdle.

Sighing he sat up and reached for his lighter. Contrary to popular belief, John did not sleep with it. When he used to, he'd often lose his lighter or wake up spectacularly bruised in the hip. So side table was good enough.

As his hand closed on his lighter, John's fingers made contact with paper, not wood. Throwing his legs over the side of the bed, John grabbed the letter.

_Don't worry. I'm fine, just need to get some air and think. Doesn't have anything to do with us so don't gear up to assault me again._

It wasn't signed but did it really need to be? John smiled. So Harry was just thinking some things through. He could handle that.

John headed downstairs to the dining room where he was surprised to see the whole household plus Mrs. Weasley (and of course minus Harry).

"Breakfast?" he guessed.

"Lunch. Did you just wake up?" Hermione asked, a slightly scolding tone in her voice. Oh great, now she had decided she liked him enough to mother him, which was completely stupid considering the girl was a year younger than him.

John nodded, taking a seat.

"You wouldn't know where Harry is, would you? I've looked everywhere," Hermione said. "He didn't sleep in my room last night."

Remus smiled, humming slightly to himself. John glared at him. That was incredibly annoying though John guessed he could forgive Remus considering he didn't come to Harry's defense when John had dragged him out of the room yesterday.

"Obviously not everywhere," John rolled his eyes, eating from the plate Mrs. Weasley had just handed him.

"Oh finally!" Tonks said. "Do you have any idea how annoying you two are when you're fighting? Unpleasant really."

"So you made up?" Hermione asked, smile on her face. "How?"

"Oh, John was very gentlemanly," Remus said. "He dragged Harry very forcefully out of the room."

"Ah, yes," Hermione said nodding. "The beat some sense into him approach. I have to say it's sometimes the best way to deal with him sometimes." She paused. "You didn't actually hit him, did you?"

That got a true glare out of John. "No," he said angrily. Hermione had the sense to look ashamed.

John glanced over at the two Malfoys and Mrs. Weasley who remained quiet. Mrs. Weasley hadn't quite shown any sign of what she thought about the two's relationship. John got the feeling it wasn't generally accepted in the wizarding world. Seeing as the Order was made up of incredibly tolerant people, that hadn't really been a problem. Harry being Harry Potter probably helped on that front too.

"Is Harry still in your room then?" Mrs. Weasley finally asked.

John shook his head. "Left a note. He went out."

"Out?" Mrs. Weasley asked, panicked. At least Harry's relationship with John didn't erase her motherly feelings for Harry. John would actually feel really bad about that one.

Remus calmed her down. "Harry has enough sense to stay away from any area the Death Eaters may expect."

"Potter?" Malfoy asked as if surprised. "He has no sense, whatsoever. Otherwise he wouldn't almost get himself killed on a regular basis. Which is really quite annoying because for some strange reason it earns him house points."

Hermione and Remus looked slightly amused. "He's not trying to save anyone right now," Tonks pointed out. "I think that leaves him sensible enough."

Malfoy didn't look convinced. He didn't actually look worried, apparently just jumping at a chance to insult Harry without everyone jumping down his throat. And that was a very weird expression.

John finished his food. "I'm going to the library," he announced as he left the table.

"Wait," Hermione pushed back her chair. "I'll come, too." And with her would come the interrogation.

She didn't bother him until they had taken seats in the library. Hermione still had the biography and John had a book about Goblin forged items. Maybe they had made something for Ravenclaw or even made Hufflepuff's cup. It was worth a read.

"So…" Hermione started pleasantly. "How did all this happen?"

John shrugged. "I told him I loved him, he told me that was a problem. Then he told me he loved me, and how that was also a problem."

"That boy," Hermione said shaking her head. "He's really more tiresome than Ron. At least Ron has the emotional depth of a teaspoon. Harry just has his own depth completely."

John held back a smile.

"That's not why he left, is it?" Hermione asked cautiously.

"No," John shook his head. "Said that he needed to think about stuff not involving me. So yay for getting through to his thick skull."

Hermione smiled at him. She turned to her book but she didn't seem quite invested in it. And Hermione was always invested in her books.

"So," she put the book aside. John raised his eyebrows at her, challenging her to ask something personal. "Is there a reason you got up so late? Long night?"

John smirked. He hadn't quite expected this question from Hermione. But he guessed curiosity outweighed her prudishness.

"You mean did we have wild make-up sex all night?"

Hermione blushed before nodding.

John took pity on her. "No, I was just tired. Haven't exactly been sleeping much. Fucking Death Eater."

"Wow," Hermione said good-naturedly. "St. John Allerdyce admitted a weakness to someone. It's a day to be remembered."

John rolled his eyes. "Just be happy that it's a good day." He looked down at his book. "A very good day. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to read about little wrinkly things with sharp teeth that like making things."

* * *

><p>That good feeling continued to last throughout the day. But John should've expected something bad would happen. Harry was right, for people like them the world didn't let them win.<p>

John and Hermione were playing a game of Exploding Snap, which made Remus wince every time he heard a _snap_. Odd man. John had offered after seeing Hermione staring at a wall. Not that he knew how but things exploded, how could that not be fun?

And then it all went to hell. One of their newer members, an Auror whose name started with M John was pretty sure, burst into the room, face in panic.

"Attack!" she breathed. "East London. On a muggle school, no less."

No one had to hear anything else. In almost a split second, they were ready, Remus calling out orders.

"How many Death Eaters?" Remus asked as he gave everyone their final orders.

"Approaching ten maybe."

There were only four battle-ready members in the house.

"We're really outnumbered, Remus," Hermione said quietly.

Remus nodded stiffly. "I know." He sent a patronus out. "Hopefully back-up will arrive."

"Where's Potter?" M asked, looking around.

"Not here."

"Oh." She sounded suddenly more nervous. Harry wasn't some sort of superhero. He was a seventeen year old boy, damn it. They could fight without him.

Tonks pulled Remus into a kiss. Hermione grabbed John's elbow.

"1-2-3." And with that they apparated.

They landed with wands in hand (in John's case lighter). It was almost as if as soon as they arrived they were under attack. They quickly fell into a defensive position, evacuating whatever children that didn't yet escape the building. Luckily most had but no doubt not without seeing their teachers killed. Fucking Death Eaters.

And then the fight really began. John heard a few _crack_s which he hoped meant more Order members, not Death Eaters were arriving.

John burnt a Death Eater just enough so that he couldn't hold a wand. And then he saw her. The first thing he noticed was the jet black hair and a pretty face if not a little older and worn out. The next thing he saw was the little boy she was dragging away.

Without hesitating, John leaped over the burnt Death Eater and ran towards the door the woman had just disappeared into. He heard someone calling his name but he ignored it.

But he wasn't going to be stupid. He broke through the door, fire in front of him to protect him. The woman wasn't fighting, however. She stood, wand on the boy's jugular. John had seen a lot of crazy people on the streets, mostly homeless, but this was different. She was just mad, he could see it in her eyes.

John let his fire shrink but held it close by. The woman looked him up and down, a smile appearing on her face.

"So this is the Dark Lord's son," she said, dragging the boy directly in front of her so she was partially looking over the top of his head. "He sends his regards."

"I never got that saying," John said lightly, spinning the flame. "Regarding what?"

"Cute," she said, shushing the boy as he let out a small cry. John tried not to react. He knew the game even if he never played one as dangerous. "Just like your friend Harry Potter. Poor boy. So young. So lost. Poor little Potter has lost his way." She sang.

It was then that John knew who she was. Bellatrix Lestrange. And he got just a little bit angrier.

"I don't know," John said. "Doesn't seem lost to me. Been taking out my father's minions. I'm sure he'd love a go at you."

"Hmmm…" she looked around. "But he doesn't seem to be here."

"I guess I'll just have to take his place."

Bellatrix looked at him like a curious creature. "The Dark Lord's son but loyal to Harry Potter. I think it's you who has lost his way Pyro."

She returned her attention to the boy, petting his hair slowly. "Your father would very much like to meet you. So why don't you come with me?" she pushed her wand a little bit more into the kid's jugular. Don't react, he reminded himself as the boy started to cry. "Or the boy dies."

"Kill him," John said blankly.

"You're bluffing," she sang again.

John raised his eyebrows. "Oh, really?" he asked, keeping his eyes on hers and away from the kid. "Clearly you think I'm one of the good guys, saving cats out of trees or something." He dropped into a stage whisper. "The thing is I don't care whether the kid lives or dies."

"Then why are you here?" Bellatrix pushed back the boy's hair, smelling him. This woman was beyond creepy.

"Orders," he shrugged. "But I can go back. Say I lost. No one'll suspect me. After all, Harry Potter himself vouches for me."

Bellatrix's face broke out into a large smile. "Tut..tut..tut little boy. Lies. Lies. Lies." She cheerily wrapped her hand around her hostage's throat. The kid's sobs died down as a purely terrified look took over his face, too scared to even sob. John feared that he may have twitched just enough to give himself away but she said nothing.

"Oh, yeah?" John backed up towards the door, she only laughed. "Tell me. How do you know?"

"Because just a few weeks ago you told my husband that he was a poor excuse for a human being, fight someone that can fight back. And then you pulled the kid away. Protected him," her smile turned malicious.

Fuck, why did he say that? She had grabbed this kid just to get him alone. John was a complete moron. He just handed over his weakness to the enemy.

And she pulled out a knife and dragged it along the boy's neck to draw just enough blood.

"Okay," he said quickly. "You're right. Just leave the kid alone."

"Put out that fire and drop your weapon."

"Let go of him."

"You put out that fire," she said, and this was the first time John saw some sort of sanity in her. "And we'll trade right here in the middle."

"How am I supposed to know you won't just attack him with your wand as soon as my lighter is in your hand?"

"I do not care about the boy. He can leave, why should I care?" She pulled her wand away from the boy. "And because I could've taken your lighter anytime I wanted. _Accio Lighter_."

But John's hand was wrapped too tightly around it. He could feel the strong pull but it didn't last long.

Bellatrix pouted. "Well, there goes that." She jerked her wand and a small slash appeared across the kid's face. Fuck, he was going to have to trust that she would keep her end of the deal. If he attacked, he'd hurt the kid, too or even if he didn't, she could get a spell off just as fast. Maybe at the boy, maybe to put out his fire. John had seen the Augamenti spell, heard there were stronger versions. And though he could fight it (in fact it would probably be like fighting Bobby), how could he know she wouldn't just use the knife on the boy. But maybe. There was something else he could do.

So he put out his fire and took a step closer. Bellatrix smiled, matching him step by step. They met at the middle, a foot or two still separating them. He started handing over his lighter and she let the boy farther away from her while still holding him tight. Then the lighter was in her hand and the boy was pushed away.

"Go," John said quickly, blocking whatever spell's path as she raised her wand. The kid was gone before she could react.

And instead, Bellatrix went to grab him and he ducked. This was why the X-Men taught hand to hand, especially to people like John who were powerless without a stimulant. He got a punch in but her wand was up again. The spell hit him in the chest and he was immediately winded. She grabbed him and mimicked her position with the boy.

"You play well," Bellatrix whispered in his ear. "But not well enough."

John continued to struggle but the spell had taken most of his strength. It was even a struggle to remain standing. Which was why she so easily pulled him across the room and out the door they had entered from. The Order was still fighting and it looked like a few more people had arrived.

"Enough!" she shouted. Everyone must have been surprised enough to pause in their fighting, long enough to see Bellatrix and John. So the pause continued. "We will be leaving now," she told the Order. "We got what we came for. And if you fight, I will kill him. The Dark Lord only wants him dead if necessary. Don't make it necessary."

John sought out Hermione and then Remus. Their hands were both clenched around their wands as if they were going to call her bluff and fight for him. But that would be stupid. Then he'd be dead and they'd be dead.

Bellatrix began dragging him backwards, knife against his throat instead of her wand. Quicker. The Death Eaters moved to her, eyes and wands trained on the Order.

"John!" Hermione shouted, tears in her eyes. A few of the Death Eaters trained their wands on her. It was clear she didn't know what to say. It was clear that she wanted to fight but knew it was too much of a risk.

"Tell Harry not to do anything stupid," John said, feeling his skin make more contact with the knife. She didn't nod, didn't acknowledge that he had even said anything.

"This is all very sweet," Bellatrix said, darkly. "Really, it is but it's time to go. Bye, bye."

And again John felt the uncomfortable feeling of apparating.

* * *

><p>"What?" Harry asked, looking around the room.<p>

"The Death Eaters have John," Hermione repeated. She hadn't managed to lose all her tears and now, at the look of denial on Harry's face, more were soon to come.

"No," he shook his head. Hermione, letting out a small sob, handed Harry John's lighter.

"Harry, I'm sor—" Remus began.

"Don't tell me that you're sorry!" Harry yelled. The volume and anger reached fifth year levels. She flinched. For the first time in her life, Hermione felt a modicum of fear not for Harry but of Harry as she saw the look in his eyes.

"How could you let this happen!" Harry turned away, hand roughly going through his hair.

Hermione took a step forward. "Harry, calm down."

"Don't tell me to calm down," Harry said and though his volume returned to normal levels, the anger in his voice remained. "They have John and they'll kill John because he's an idiot and he _will_ bait them. And what do you think is going to happen when they drag him off to Voldemort? Which they will." Harry glared at Remus and Remus looked down, unable to meet Harry's gaze.

This was unfair. Harry couldn't blame Remus. Harry seemed to come to the same conclusion. He either calmed down or broke down just a little bit, throwing himself in a chair. This time when he looked at Remus, his eyes were just sad.

"How?"

Remus and Hermione exchanged looks. Who should tell him? Remus took a step forward. Hermione suspected that Remus indeed thought he was to blame for this. With that outlook it had to be him to speak up.

"I saw him running towards a door," Remus said calmly. "I called out to him but he ignored me."

"He was running after Bellatrix Lestrange," Angelina added quietly, though clearly audible in the silence.

"What?" Harry seemed to freeze. Hermione wondered if he was thinking about Sirius. Losing John like he lost Sirius.

Angelina cleared her throat. "She had a kid with her, a little boy. I think Pyr…John was going after him."

Harry closed his eyes. Hermione too realized that Bellatrix had found one of the two things (maybe three, Hermione didn't know exactly how close John was to his friend Bobby) that would make John do something so stupid.

Harry shook his head, letting out a sad smile, a smile that Harry was particularly good at. "Of course. A kid. She had to take a kid. Then what happened?"

"None of us could follow him," Hermione said. "There were too many people in the way. I thought John would be able to take her if he was smart. If he took her by surprise or something."

"But he didn't," Harry said for her, staring at the ground.

"The next we saw John, Bellatrix had a knife to his throat," Remus continued. "She said that they had gotten what they came for."

Harry cursed. "It was a trap. They knew exactly what to do to get him. Remember the little Stebbins girl?"

Hermione covered her mouth with her hands. Of course. It was just too much of a coincidence for them to have happened upon the school.

"The kid got away," Angelina added. Anyone else in Harry's position would have ignored her, but he nodded.

"Good. John wouldn't have done it if he didn't think he could save him," he nodded again. "That's very good."

But Harry said that absentmindedly. Hermione knew Harry. Knew that all these wild rescue plans were popping into his head. But this wasn't the Chamber of Secrets, Dementors, or even the muggle-borns in the Ministry. This was most likely Death Eater headquarters and Voldemort himself. It would be impossible to get in, even if they did know where the headquarters were. And if getting in was impossible, getting out was even more so.

Hermione liked John. She wanted to cry at the thought of him in his father's hands. But Harry would get himself killed if he did this. And it wasn't wholly about the fact that Harry was her friend that kept her from encouraging Harry. It was also the fact that he was Harry Potter and if he died, they all died.

"He told me to tell you not to do anything stupid."

Harry snorted. "I don't think he can really speak right now."

Silence.

"I'm guessing there's no plan to get him out," Harry said dully. "That it'll be too dangerous. We don't even know where their headquarters are."

Hermione would be suspicious if she didn't know that that last part was true. Harry had no starting point. What could he do?

* * *

><p>The Death Eaters didn't touch him. They just threw him in a cell in the basement of some gaudy mansion. Not that he was very comfortable. His hands were tied behind his back and the Death Eaters had literally thrown him in. His shoulder was throbbing from where he landed on it. He couldn't be sure, but it felt like a dislocated shoulder. And then there was his side. While mostly healed, it didn't appreciate being landed on.<p>

How the hell was he going to get out of this? The obvious answer was that he wouldn't. How could he? He had no lighter and he was sure that they were smart enough not to light any fires. He was up against magic here. Any skills he had were useless. He was magically locked in so he couldn't pick the lock. Even if he got out of the building where was he going to go? This was it.

John really hoped Harry would listen to him. That he wouldn't do anything stupid. He knew it was an empty hope but he had to ignore that. He had to think that Harry would respect his request because, if he worried about that, how was he supposed to do anything else?

John was going to die. Even if given the opportunity to live, he wasn't becoming a Death Eater and he doubted he could double-cross his father. Didn't Harry say he could read minds?

So John made the decision right then and there. Live fast and die hard. Die young. He never expected anything different. John was going to do what he did best. Run his mouth. And yeah that might mean more pain but it was the only way he could fight back. Might as well annoy his killers when he had the time.

At least a few hours had passed by the time someone came down the stairs, stopping at the cell door. Great, Bellatrix. He didn't like the way she was looking at him. It was like he was a new toy or something and he didn't like that at all.

"Your father wants to see you," she told him, performing a few spells. She went to drag him to his feet and he kicked her. Hard. Sure in the long run it did nothing but now? Now, it was fun.

She hissed, pulling him up by his hair. He did his best not make a sound but that had definitely hurt.

Bellatrix dragged John up the stairs, through some large room, and into a hallway. Death Eaters stared as they passed. By then, he had numbed to the pain in his shoulder. Bellatrix had somehow managed to grab the bad arm. Lucky her.

And then she shoved him into a room and he landed hard on his knees.

"Now, now Bellatrix. We should be kind to our guests." That voice was like ice. It was deadly quiet but somehow seemed to travel through you.

John got to his feet before looking up. Like hell he was going to meet his father for the first time on his knees. St. John bowed to no one.

And for the first time, John laid eyes on his real father. The father he had spent the last few months being compared to. The father that made him Voldemort's son more than John or even Pyro. And the man was probably the ugliest thing he had ever seen. Pale like snow, slits for a nose, blood red eyes. John was really glad he looked like his mother if that's the way his father had aged, though admittedly Harry had said that Voldemort performed dark spells which deformed him as much as made him powerful.

"Hey, dad," John said, smirking.

"St. John," Voldemort said from his seat near a fireplace. Of course, no fire. A snake sat at his feet like a dog. "Or should I say Pyro? It is so hard to keep track. You have so many names."

John shrugged. "Call me what you want. My question though is do I call you dad? Maybe father. Or should I stick with Voldemort? Hmmm…better yet, how about Tom Riddle. I'll leave the Marvello out because that's just a ridiculous name."

Voldemort looked at him curiously. Damn, John had hoped that the 'Tom Riddle' comment would've gotten him.

"I see you've been talking to Harry Potter," Voldemort said smiling. John really wished he wouldn't. Puking really wasn't desired right now. "Bellatrix, leave us alone."

John hadn't even realized she was still there, but she quickly bowed and left. Crazy bitch. Voldemort stood and circled John. It made John's hair stand on end but he kept up the careless pose. He wouldn't give his father the pleasure of seeing him weak.

"I have to admit," Voldemort said, now standing in front of John, only a few feet away. "I did expect more. I heard what you've done to my Death Eaters. Killed. Maimed. Not nearly as many as you should have but the potential seemed to be there."

"Seemed?" John asked, pretending to be insulted. "If driven you have no idea what I'd do to your minions."

Voldemort smiled again. "You don't look like me—"

"Thank God," John inserted.

Voldemort looked amused. Harry had said this man was insane, constantly enraged. Why was it so hard to make him mad?

"You must look like your mother, though I can't seem to recall how she looks. Or really who she is. No matter. Do you miss your mother, St. John?"

John looked Voldemort straight in the eyes. "My mom could overdose in a ditch somewhere and I wouldn't care."

"Ah yes," Voldemort somehow looked pleased. "And your father? Well, your other father."

John smirked. "I heard what you did to him. I suppose I should thank you. He deserved worse."

"And why is that?"

John felt it when Voldemort entered his mind. It wasn't like Xavier. This hurt and it hurt like hell. He bit down so that he wouldn't make a sound but he imagined that he must have.

And then it was over, though a headache remained.

Voldemort looked at him curiously. "You let that man do that to you?"

"Yeah," John rolled his eyes. "I sat there and said 'looks like my dad's going to hit me. Okay have fun dad.'"

"You should've slit his throat in his sleep."

"Not really my style. I like fire. Always have."

Voldemort eyed him. "As unimpressive as your appearance is, I have heard great things about you. To burn someone alive? I have to admit I've never done it. And you have the killer instinct. Ah, yes, very much so. You could kill and not feel remorse. Not a common talent."

Voldemort paused, looking at the snake. "Even Nagini seems to like you. Must be the scent." The Horcrux John thought before pushing it out of his mind, Voldemort couldn't know how much they knew. But John couldn't help but think that maybe just maybe he could be useful. He could kill the snake. But with what?

Voldemort turned back to him. "But I must admit, I do not understand. Why do you stand by Harry Potter's side? His closest ally my Death Eaters tell me. I feel your hatred. You hate the muggles as much as I do. You know what they're capable of. You know that their beneath us but you fight for them anyway."

"Yeah," John agreed. "I've seen what they're like. Yeah, I hate them. Yeah, I fight for them. Do you want to know why?" Voldemort didn't respond. "Because their below me. Hurting them? Killing them? It's pathetic. Only cowards fight someone that can't fight back."

That did it. Anger finally crossed Voldemort's face. But he continued to hold it back.

"Yet you still protect them. You see, it's more than not killing them. Why?"

John smirked, he was going to love this. "Because Harry Potter asked it." It wasn't anger anymore. It was rage and John always had to push things too far. "You see my loyalty isn't to the Order. It's to Harry Potter. At least he's not pathetic." More rage. "At least he doesn't fight a fourteen year old boy while bragging that he's more powerful than a kid. At least he doesn't attack a fucking baby." Nearly there. "And most of all, your pathetic because Harry Potter keeps living and you keep failing. You couldn't manage to kill a baby. A child. And now a teenage boy. The thing is, now you're too late. He's going to wipe the floor with you."

"Crucio!"

This time John couldn't help but scream. It was worse than getting stabbed. It was like getting stabbed over and over again, everywhere. It was like a knife to the brain. And then it stopped.

John hadn't realized he'd fallen to his knees. And despite the pain from the curse, from his shoulder, from his side, he stood and again looked his father in the eyes.

"And you're pathetic because you had to tie me up to hurt me. My muggle dad at least had the balls to do it without ropes."

And the pain came again. It had to have lasted longer this time. But again it stopped and John stood back up though this time it was harder. One more and he wouldn't be able to stand.

"You insolent boy," Voldemort didn't quite yell but John suspected it was still the equivalent to yelling.

John forced a cheeky smile on his face even though it took so much out of him. And now speak. Come on, John, speak. "I've always been told I have a big mouth. Tends to get me into trouble." His voice was incredibly hoarse.

And Voldemort froze. John didn't like the look in his eyes. Didn't like the smirk. "From what I've seen," Voldemort said calmly. "Your mouth does a whole lot more than that. You refuse to be on your knees in front of me but for other men? Young, old, it doesn't matter. You call me pathetic. But that's just meaningless words from a whore."

John didn't respond. Yeah, he did some things that he had to when he was on the streets. And he prided himself on the fact that, whatever he did, he did it less than any other street kid he knew. Only if he was desperate would he sink that low.

"And you are my blood?" Voldemort asked as if insulted. "You are nothing."

John had always thought so too. Always. And he spent a lot of time thinking he didn't deserve the mansion, Bobby, Harry, anything really. But both Bobby and Harry made him feel as if he wasn't nothing. Harry made him feel as if he was more than not nothing, that he had the potential to be a good man. He had never said it but it was always there in their conversations and even when Harry dealt with him playing games, being an asshole. Harry. Dying meant that he would lose Harry.

Voldemort was looking at him, head cocked like a dog. "You think of Harry Potter."

Fuck. John forgot. John forgot that Voldemort could read his mind. But John calmed down. If the look in Voldemort's eyes said anything, he was about to find everything out anyway.

So John smirked, and Voldemort looked momentarily taken back.

"What can I say? It was practice. Obviously you didn't see it all." Voldemort watched him curiously. "To be on my knees for Harry Potter? Nothing like it. To have him beneath me." John took a breath. This was taking a lot out of him but like he said, he was going out his way. "For him to submit to me, let me do anything I want to him. To have a power like that over him…it's better than fire."

Voldemort yelled something indiscernible. And pain hit him again. This time it was all concentrated in his left arm, which was partially good since it was his good side at the moment. But he couldn't think about it for long. His forearm was burning. Was this what it felt like to be lit on fire? And the pain dulled but it was still there, throbbing.

John wasn't on his knees this time. He was on his back where he imagined he had just been writhing in agony. Voldemort loomed over him.

"Usually that's a voluntary procedure. Painful as it is but forced on you? It just might be worse than the Cruciatus," Voldemort smiled, completely sadistic. John didn't think of himself as a possible sociopath anymore if this was what sociopaths looked like. "Harry Potter is yours? Well now your mine. Marked. I'll make sure to send your body to him when I'm finished. Bellatrix!"

And Bellatrix was suddenly in the room. At least John thought it was suddenly. He could've passed out. Actually he might've for a moment or two.

"Do what you wish with the boy," Voldemort hissed. "Give no mercy."

And Bellatrix smiled. It hit John that she had almost the same smile as Voldemort. As he was being dragged away he got a look at his arm.

The Dark Mark.

* * *

><p>Harry thought about it into the next day. He had to do something and he had to do something fast. The longer it took him to figure something out, the longer John was with his father, with Bellatrix. And Harry just knew John wouldn't keep his mouth shut. Especially if he thought he was going to die.<p>

It hit him. Exactly thirteen hours after John had been taken. He left his room, glad that Remus and Hermione decided not to baby sit him. They thought he would just sit back? Then again they thought that there was nothing he could do. That he didn't know where Voldemort's headquarters were. But Harry knew.

He knocked roughly on the door. It was taking too long for someone to respond. He knocked again.

The door flew open.

"Malfoy, I need your help."


	28. Escape from Malfoy Manor

_Mutant Son_

Warnings: **Dark, rated M for a reason.**

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling's and Marvel's.

A.N. Congratulations! If you're reading this, you have made it through the darkest chapter in the story. Thank you all reviewers. I literally love hearing from you.

**Chapter 28: Escape from Malfoy Manor **

"No. For the last time, Potter. No," Malfoy glared. It had to be about the seventh and eighth time he had used the word 'no'.

"I'm not asking you to come with me," Harry growled. "I'm just asking you to tell me how to get in and out. What are you risking?"

"How about your life?" That made Harry pause. "And don't get all touched. You die, I die. My mother dies. As much as I hate to admit it, you winning is the only way we're going to keep on living. So, no."

Harry's jaw tensed. He didn't have time for this. "You know what, Malfoy?" he started. "You think about it. I'll be back and you'll think about it. Think about what I'd do if you say no one more time."

And Harry stormed out of the room and locked the door behind him. When the Malfoys had first moved in, Remus had taught Harry the spell. Only the owner of the house could disarm it. For good measure, he cast a silencing charm so no passer-by could hear Malfoy call for help.

Harry wasted no time. "Point me Remus Lupin."

He found Remus in the library. Harry took a moment to study him. He needed to know how to spin this. Remus looked tired and sad. Had he been up all night like Harry? He blamed himself, Harry realized. And if Harry was being honest with himself, Harry blamed him too. At least a little bit because Harry needed someone close-by to blame. For once that person wasn't him.

"Hey, Remus?" he called from the door. Remus turned. Cue guilt. "I need a favor."

"Anything, Harry," Remus paused. "Well anything that won't get you killed."

Harry gave him a small smile. "I need to get to Westchester. To Xavier's School." Harry swallowed. "Has anyone told them yet?"

Harry never knew so much guilt could pass over a person's face, though maybe that's how Harry looked on a regular basis. Remus ran a hand through his hair. Harry had never seen him do that. "Of course. I can't believe I forgot about them. I should contact them"

"No," Harry interjected, trying to keep his voice perfectly even. "I think I should."

"Harry," Remus said. "They'll need someone to blame."

"Or they'll need to be told by the person who knows John the best," Harry argued and Remus nodded.

"We'll go to the kitchen, then. We're connected to the fireplace in Xavier's office."

Harry followed Remus eagerly. Step 2 a success. Step 1, also known as that idiot Malfoy, was still a work in progress.

Remus left after giving the floo power to Harry and telling him what to say.

"Xavier's School. Westchester," Harry said into the fire, choosing to fire call before actually going over.

The office was sophisticatedly decorated. A lot of wood-paneling. Leather seats, too.

"Can I help you?"

Harry turned to where the Professor was sitting near the window. John had never told him that the man used a wheelchair.

"Yes, I'd like to talk to Bobby Drake," Harry used whatever he knew of Occlumency from Snape. Almost nothing really. "I'm Harry. Harry Potter."

"Harry?" Xavier asked smiling, wheeling himself over with a little joystick on the arm of his wheelchair. "Of course, of course. Come on through."

Harry didn't have to be told twice. The office felt less like some home and style magazine Aunt Petunia tended to read when Harry was standing in it.

"I've heard so much about you," Xavier continued to smile. "Albus was very proud."

Harry gave a short nod. If Dumbledore thought that Harry's life was more valuable than his, Harry had no doubt he'd be very disappointed in Harry right now.

"Thank you," he said, forcing a small smile. "John's told me a bit about you. Admittedly I've heard the most about Bobby. Is he here?"

"Yes, of course," Xavier said turning himself towards his desk. "I have already called him." At Harry's confused look Xavier looked amused. "As powerful as Albus was, I suspect he couldn't quite reach to minds on the other side of his school. Or really in the other room, as the case may be."

There was a knock on the door.

"Bobby, come in."

And then Harry saw Bobby Drake for the first time. Blond, blue eyes, fit. John was interested in Harry with a best friend that looked like that? No wonder John seemed to have a crush on him. Harry was sure the only reason John even ended up with Harry was because Bobby was, what was the wording again? Irredeemably straight.

"You wanted to see me, Professor?" Bobby asked before looking at Harry. He looked at Harry as if he was someone he vaguely recalled running into on the street.

"This is Harry Potter," Xavier said, gesturing towards him. Bobby apparently realized why he looked familiar. At least Harry knew that John had talked about him. "He wishes to speak to you."

Harry kept a straight face. "Cool," Bobby said offering a smile. A nice all-American smile. Damn it. "We can go to my room or something? It's kind of cold outside so everyone's using all the common areas."

Harry nodded and followed Bobby out the office, up the stairs, and to a room. The room had two twin beds on opposite sides of the room. Half of the room looked neat enough but the other was still a mess. Mostly books.

"Yeah, that's John's stuff," Bobby said following Harry's gaze. "Actually most of those might be library books. I really should check. So you're Harry? I've heard a bit about you."

But Harry wasn't interested in what Bobby had heard or even in small talk in general. He returned his gaze to Bobby.

"I need your help," he told him.

Bobby's face fell. "What did Johnny do now?"

Harry almost winced at Bobby's use of the name Johnny. "Something incredibly stupid."

Bobby took a step away, sighing. "What happened?"

"He got himself kidnapped," Harry said tersely. "And no one is doing anything because it's too dangerous."

"How the hell did he get kidnapped?" Bobby snapped. "Why was he in a situation to get kidnapped?"

"We're fighting a war," Harry said, annoyed.

"You guys were supposed to be protecting him, not letting him fight. I thought that time he told me about was a one-time thing. Like a surprise attack or something," Bobby ranted, glaring at Harry as if it was his entire fault.

"It was his choice."

"Yeah but John would fucking choose to fight because he likes fighting. Do you really think that's a reason to let him?" Bobby said. Harry didn't imagine he'd be one to curse but Harry guessed John was a bad influence on him too. "Unless…" Bobby looked at Harry. "He's fighting because of you." Bobby surprisingly became less angry, shaking his head. "I knew if John was going to do this relationship thing he would do it his way. Over the top and no holding back."

"Yeah, well, Johnny's an idiot," Harry snapped, before finally getting the conversation to the matter at hand. Bobby looked at him interestedly. "I'm going in. And I'm hoping you love him enough to help me. Because I know you love him even if it's not in the way I do."

Bobby looked at him for a moment but then there was no hesitation. "Yeah, of course I'm helping. He's Johnny. He's more than a brother to me. I dislike my brother all the time. I only dislike John some of the time."

Harry didn't smile even if he did think that was funny. This was serious and Harry still didn't like Bobby. He refused to like him.

"What's the plan?" Bobby asked.

"I tell your Professor that John did something stupid and is refusing to talk to anyone," Harry said, moving towards the door. "But I figured he'd talk to you since, you know, he can't help but talk about you. All the time." Harry couldn't help letting that last part slip in.

Harry didn't look at Bobby as he let him lead the way.

"That should work," Bobby nodded. "The Professor tries to stay out of our minds. As long as you don't project we're fine."

"As long as you don't project," Harry said, maybe a bit childishly.

"I've lived here for six years. I know how to keep my thoughts to myself," Bobby said brightly. Harry must've been being a complete bastard if Bobby was trying to lighten the mood in such a bad situation. Harry resigned himself to being nicer.

And Bobby was right. Neither Xavier nor Scott Summers (was it a requirement for mutants to be good looking?) stopped them. In fact, they didn't hit any problems until they ran into Tonks and Remus.

"Bobby," Tonks said in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

Bobby looked at Harry even as Remus spoke up. "Harry—"

"Don't 'Harry' me. You lost him. Sorry if I decided to find someone that might miss him as much as me," Harry snapped. "Someone who doesn't seem to think John's a spare, an unnecessary risk to rescue."

Harry only half meant those things but it got Remus off his case. When they were out of hearing range, Bobby looked at Harry. "That was harsh."

Harry nodded. "I know. As mad as I am at him, in any other situation I wouldn't do that to him."

"But you can't have him asking questions," Bobby guessed.

Harry nodded again. "Remus has the most pull now. He's the only leader we have left."

Bobby looked like he wasn't going to say anything but then changed his mind. "John seems to think that people would be willing to follow you into Mordor."

"What's Mordor?" Harry asked absentmindedly.

"What? Never mind, doesn't matter. Let's just say it's really bad place with impossible odds to escape."

Harry thought for a moment. "Some of them would probably follow me, yeah. If it meant more than rescuing Voldemort's son or even if they just couldn't stop me."

Bobby chose not to continue the conversation. He probably didn't appreciate Harry's suggestion that no one cared about whether John lived or died. Not quite true but, still, people weren't doing anything that said any different.

They reached Malfoy's room and Harry unlocked the door, dragging Bobby in quickly.

"What the hell, Potter?" Malfoy yelled, glaring at Harry and then turning to sneer at Bobby. "Who's this?"

"Another mutant," Harry said simply. "Now, have you thought about it?"

"No," Malfoy said. "Do I have to say it again?"

"No thanks," Harry responded. "It gets kind of repetitive."

And then Harry made his move. He knocked Malfoy's wand out of the way even as he drew it. Harry pinned Malfoy to the wall, forearm pressing into his throat.

"How about now?" Harry asked coldly.

"No," Malfoy said. "What would you do to me anyway? Kill me."

"Probably not," Harry pressed his arm harder against Malfoy's throat. He was glad to see that Bobby just leaned against the other wall as if used to this. Then again, he was friends with John. "But I can make you really uncomfortable. Or worse."

"You don't have it in you," Malfoy spit out.

Harry laughed. Even to him it was an unpleasant sound. "You have no idea what I could do when pushed. Ask your dear aunt, I'm sure she remembers."

Malfoy only looked at him curiously. Obviously he thought Harry was lying. Harry wasn't sure if he was. Malfoy wasn't the enemy, but he was standing between Harry and John.

"I'm not convinced," Malfoy smirked. "Give me one good reason, Potter."

"Because," Harry said angrily. "For the first time in your life, you can be something other than a cowardly piece of trash with a fancy pedigree."

"The only piece of trash involved here is your boyfriend." Harry pressed his arm further into Malfoy's throat before he felt the room get colder. Impressive.

And then, for the first time in his life, Harry intentionally used wandless magic. Even the accio had been in the heat of battle. Harry made as many items in the room as he could manage slowly rise into the air.

Malfoy looked shocked more than scared. And then Harry let everything drop but a rather large book which he sent hurtling towards him and Malfoy, hitting hard inches away from Malfoy's head. Now Malfoy looked scared.

"You'll help me," Harry spit out. "This time, I'm not asking."

"Fine," Malfoy managed to get out and Harry released him. The room was still too cold.

And then Malfoy said something that could've made Harry die of shock in any other situation.

"But I'm coming with you."

"What?" Harry asked truly surprised. "You hold out information but willingly offer yourself up without being asked?"

Malfoy glared at Harry, rubbing his throat. "Because any instructions I give you won't help you. The Manor is big and the enchantments are complicated. You wouldn't be able to even reach the Manor."

Malfoy looked at Bobby briefly as if just remembering he was there. "Like I said, you'd die and then I'd be dead. This way you have more of a chance."

"And you'll have a greater chance of dying."

Malfoy shrugged. "I'll convince them that you kidnapped me in hopes of being somehow able to storm the Manor. They won't be able to read my mind. With you dead, I actually have a better chance at surviving there than here. Even if just barely."

The reasoning made little sense to Harry. But then again, Harry wasn't a sneaky snake who wormed his way out of trouble on a regular basis. Harry walked into it.

"Fine," Harry agreed.

"Who's your back-up?" Malfoy asked.

"Well, you," Harry said before looking over at Bobby. "And him."

"You've got to be kidding," Malfoy looked between them. "Two people."

"With less people it's easier to infiltrate and extract," Bobby said. It was clear that Bobby took more of the X-Men training to heart than John had. "If we're dealing with hallways, if we stay in a group, only a few people would have clear shots at a time anyway."

"Yeah?" Malfoy sneered. "And what kind of shot do you have? You're dealing with the Dark Lord."

The room got almost arctic cold. Frost started forming on the walls. Cool. Pun not intended. Maybe Harry was finally losing it.

"Got it, Malfoy?" Harry asked as Bobby let the room return to normal temperatures but the frost didn't recede. It only began to melt. Harry grinned at Bobby who shrugged before grinning back.

* * *

><p>For a while, the only thing John could think was how much pain he was in. But then he gathered any skill he had gained as an abused kid and detached himself from the pain, at least for a little. But this was worse than any beating his dad could dole out. His Australian one, he meant, which got confusing because he still thought of the man as his father even if he wasn't. Yeah John hated him. Yeah, the man had beaten him. But the man had also raised him, even after John's mother split, knowing that John wasn't his. Not that that made John hate him any less.<p>

John supposed he was lucky. Bellatrix had pulled her knife on him. Gave him some pretty superficial cuts as compared to the mostly healed one in his side. Which hurt like a bitch anyway. She got bored when he hadn't reacted much. After the Dark Mark, how would this hurt?

Bellatrix pouted before giving him one deeper cut, along his injured side. That made John wince but he tried his best not to make a sound. Now it hurt like more than a bitch.

"I'll just let you bleed out before I come back," she told him sweetly. "By then, maybe the pain in your arm will have gone away enough for you to feel my torture. One can only hope. After all, I have all the time in the world."

And then she left and he was alone. John was pretty sure he fell asleep but still she hadn't returned. He thought he may have heard voices upstairs. Maybe they had a meeting. How long could that buy him? Because now he knew he had already added a few more hours, maybe days to his life. His father was just angry enough to keep him around to torture him. John probably should've thought that one out better but it was so satisfying messing with the man. The man that made Harry's life hell. John was dead anyway. He'd take the pain for that satisfaction.

The next time he awoke he realized he hadn't fallen asleep, but passed out. And someone was outside of his cell, saying his name.

"John," came loud whisper. "Come on, John, wake up."

Nope, he was going to stay right here. Let them get him up.

"Johnny, don't be stubborn." Did someone say Johnny? It sounded like Bobby. Maybe he was hallucinating.

"Whatever you're thinking John, you're not hallucinating. Just look at us, damn it." And that was Harry. Definitely hallucinating because the two had never even met. Wishful thinking.

"Maybe he's dead." He didn't recognize the voice.

"Shut it, Malfoy," the imaginary Harry said. Wait. Malfoy? Why would he ever hallucinate Malfoy?

So he opened his eyes. And sure enough, there was Harry, Bobby, and Malfoy. It was too strange of a combination for John's mind to have made up.

He groaned. "Harry, you're a fucking moron." Harry was going to get himself killed.

There was enough light for him to see Harry roll his eyes. "I'm not the one in the cell. And bleeding it looks like. You didn't call Voldemort a half-blood or something as stupid as that? Oh, God, you called him pathetic, didn't you."

"Hmm," John said, attempting to get to his feet. He could only manage his knees. Sort of. "I should've thought of half-blood. But pathetic worked fairly good."

"He's such an idiot," Bobby groaned.

"As nice as this is," Malfoy glared. "We should probably get going. Remember the ultimate goal in life is not to die. Unless you're Potter."

Harry ignored Malfoy's last comment. He took a step back from the cell. "What kind of wards are these, Malfoy?"

"Blood wards," Malfoy said without pause. "I saw them do it. The Dark Lord's own blood."

And Harry smiled. Malfoy looked at him like he was crazy. John did for a moment as well. He was still groggy. But then he thought he knew where Harry was going with this.

"Can we do spells through the bars?" Harry asked, looking closely at the bars. He held his hand up, freezing less than an inch from the bars before pulling away.

"Yeah," Harry answered himself. "The better to torture with."

"How the hell do you know that?" Malfoy asked.

"The way the wards look," Harry shrugged. So Harry's training with the tallest Weasley had paid off. "And I know Voldemort. He wouldn't want anything keeping him from his prey."

"Prey?" Bobby asked disturbed. Harry nodded and Bobby wrinkled his nose.

"John," Harry called. "Can you show me your hands? I need to be able to see them to cut you free." John nodded, turning enough for Harry to see the ropes. And then John was free.

"You need my blood," John stated more than asked, moving towards the bars. Harry nodded, and with a quick slashing motion with his wand, Harry made a small cut appear on John's hand.

"What—" Bobby started.

"Trust me," Harry said at the same time as John said, "Trust him."

Bobby took a step back, nodding.

John moved to drip blood on where he thought the wards are.

"Wait," Harry said, cutting his own hand.

"Wh—" John began.

"Voldemort used my blood in the graveyard that night. For his resurrection. With your blood and mine we might be able to trick the wards."

"Might?" Malfoy asked.

Harry didn't answer. "Meet in the middle," he told John. And John trusted Harry so he did as he asked. Harry made sure that their blood mixed together as it fell to the ground. John thought he felt something when the wards went down. It looked like Bobby had too.

But all John needed to know that it had worked was the smile that appeared on Harry's face. John's favorite brilliant smile. Now all they had to do was stay alive.

"You have been checked for STDs right?" Harry asked, smile still on his face.

John rolled his eyes. "Do you really think it matters the way we go at it?"

"Too much information," Bobby said, wincing.

Harry and Malfoy attempted a series of unlocking spells. None worked.

Bobby moved them out of the way. "They used a key?" he asked. John nodded.

"Good thing you decided to pass your delinquency on to me," Bobby said as he pulled out a paper clip. "Thought this could come in handy," Bobby went on as John's eyes landed on it. John let out a weak grin. He knew there was a reason he loved Bobby. Loved? Yeah, well, loved, in a nice, normal platonic way. John had heard that was normal.

Bobby didn't work as fast as John could have but he worked fast enough. The lock clicked and Bobby went to open the cell when Malfoy's hand shot out, closing it.

"Wait," he snapped. He looked at Harry. "Potter, his arm."

The Dark Mark. Harry glanced at it. "Let go of the door," he told Malfoy.

"He has the Dark Mark!"

"I don't care," Harry said, pushing Malfoy out of the way. Harry grabbed John, handing him his lighter. John felt himself mildly relax. He wasn't weak anymore. And then they were moving. Malfoy led the way, looking back every so often at John suspiciously.

"This isn't the way we came in," Bobby said as they passed through a dark hall.

"No," Malfoy said quietly. "My father made sure that his emergency exit was well away from any entrance. No one could suspect it."

John guessed that he was glad that Malfoy's father was such a sneaky, crooked man. It certainly made escaping just a little bit easier. They didn't meet anyone as they went.

"Almost there," Malfoy said.

"Almost where?"

A Death Eater appeared in front of them, wand raised. Harry took him out before the man could do anything. "I think it's time to run," Harry said as they heard voices behind them. Angry voices.

"It's either run or die, Johnny," Bobby said. "You think you can do it?" John glared and everyone took that as a yes.

And they all ran. John expected a lot of pain, but it was only mild. He couldn't think about it. He couldn't let his body realize it was running on adrenaline.

A group of Death Eater emerged from around the corner. Bobby froze their feet to the ground. They were momentarily distracted.

Harry and Malfoy took advantage of the distraction. "Expelliarmus."

And they were running again. "Aim for their wands too next time," Harry told Bobby as they ran. Bobby nodded. There were more voices behind them. Bobby took up the rear, freezing the floor behind them as they went.

The Death Eaters soon learned. They began apparating in front of them, despite the tactical risk they were taking. John knew they did not want to be blamed for letting their master's son escape.

They turned a corner, nearly running into a larger group of Death Eaters. John didn't think. He flicked his lighter and shot a ball of flame around Malfoy. He expanded it and let it engulf everyone in their way.

John killed the fire and they took off again, not pausing as they stepped on ash. But that took a lot out of him. He was feeling it now, the pain, the exhaustion. Keep going, he told himself. Bobby grabbed him. They ran through a small hall, but just as they were about to disappear through another hallway, a voice came from behind them.

"Oh, Potter!"

Bellatrix.

Harry froze. John dragged Bobby to a stop. This was not good. They had to go. "Potter! What do you think you're doing?" Malfoy had stopped, too, eyes travelling between Bellatrix and Harry.

"My dear nephew," Bellatrix glanced at him. "Such a disappointment, really. You never should have left."

Malfoy said nothing, but John saw the fear. John felt mildly bad for the guy. This was his aunt?

Bellatrix turned back to Harry whose knuckles were white around his wand. His eyes were dark in anger. John had never seen this Harry, even in battle.

A group of Death Eater arrived behind Bellatrix, but she blocked their way.

"I think this should be between the two of us, don't you think?" Harry said. John always liked angry Harry but he had never seen this Harry. This Harry was dangerous. And John felt a bit sick about being ridiculously attracted to Harry in that moment. John had some major issues.

"Stand back," she told the Death Eater. "Me and Potter are going play a little game." When she looked back over, John was surprise to see no sign of sanity in her eyes. But somehow that was scarier.

"Potter—"

"Harry—"

But John said nothing.

And then Harry and Bellatrix were fighting. Over the weeks, Harry had improved so much. Only two months ago hadn't Shackelbolt said that Harry did well against all the Death Eaters, with two exceptions: Snape and Bellatrix? Well, maybe it was the rage, but that didn't seem to be the case anymore. Bellatrix couldn't even keep up.

Harry flicked his wand and Bellatrix went flying. She dropped her wand and Harry summoned it to him. The Death Eaters prepared to intervene but Harry cast a spell, blocking them from interfering.

"I learned that one from your master," Harry said as he squatted in front of her. She laughed but her fear cut through it.

"You've learned, Potter," Bellatrix said, as she seemed to attempt to keep her voice from shaking. "Very good. Your godfather would be proud."

Why did she bait him? Harry was angry, beyond angry, and it was scary as hell.

"I say this in the sincerest way possible," he said, standing. "Got to hell." And he raised his wand.

"No," John said. Harry froze but didn't look at him. "Harry, no."

Harry still didn't take his eyes off of Bellatrix. "You say I don't have it in me, Johnny? I think it's time for them to find out what I'm capable of." But as Harry said this, John broke his arm out of Bobby's grasp, not that Bobby resisted, and went to Harry.

"Come on, Harry," John said. "Yeah, you're capable, but could you live with it?"

"I think I could," he said, wand shaking as he held it back. John flicked his lighter.

Harry raised his wand, but he hesitated just long enough, as if reconsidering, for John to intercept, lighting the woman's robes on fire. He accelerated it just enough that it was close to engulfing her body. And she burned, screaming. John let the flame be, let it run his course. He grabbed Harry who seemed to be in shock. He sucked it up as he realized John was losing strength. Harry grabbed him and tugged. They were on the run again.

Someone called to put the fire out. John wondered if they would do it in time to save Bellatrix. He should've made sure the job was done. But he had figured, if anyone deserved a slow death by fire, that witch did.

They reached a dead end, skidding to a stop.

Malfoy put his wand in front of him, tapping the wall, muttering. "Everyone, think of headquarters. It'll be like the floo, but without the fire," he said before returning to his muttering. He grabbed Bobby's arm (and if John wasn't dead shocked about that one) and Harry grabbed John's. They both seemed to think the same thing: this might not work on muggles.

Flooing was rather unpleasant without the fire.

* * *

><p>Remus had called an Order meeting, completely panicked. Harry, Draco, and Bobby were gone. He should've known that Harry (and by association, Bobby) was up to something. The Order argued amongst themselves about what to do. The obvious answer was to go after Harry, but they had no idea where to go.<p>

He felt like an idiot when an hour passed and he realized something that should've been obvious. Draco knew where Voldemort's headquarters were. Of course! They had their very own Death Eater source right under their noses. How could he have forgotten that? His ignorance may have just cost them the war. Cost them Harry.

But then he realized something else. If Draco knew, then his mother did, too.

"Molly," Remus called. She was closest to the door. She looked up. "Please go get Narcissa. I think we have a starting point."

The Order had gone quiet as they seemed to follow his train of thought. Remus met Tonks' sad eyes. She wouldn't blame him even if he did deserve it. He was the leader now.

Molly re-entered with Narcissa, who looked around the room curiously.

"Your son is gone," Remus told her and her face fell. "What's worse is Harry and one of John's friends are gone too. It seems Harry had a rescue plan after all."

Narcissa looked around the room, panicked. Her love for her son made her human.

"They went to Malfoy Manor," she told them. "That's where the Dark Lord is."

"Could you get us in?" Remus asked, meeting her eyes.

She nodded. "Yes."

Remus began shouting orders. He created two teams. One would do the actual rescue, the other would fight the Death Eaters. He felt comfortable putting a few Auror members in charge of the battle. Remus was going to fetch Harry and he couldn't help but be relieved that it meant fetching John, too.

He was giving the final orders when a light flashed in the fireplace, putting out the fire. Remus and the others raised their wands but he heard Narcissa in the back.

"Oh, thank you. Thank you."

And then four boys tumbled out. Well three tumbled out and one seemed to just step out. Harry, Bobby, Draco, and John had returned.

There were cries of relief. Hermione ran to them, hugging first Harry and then John who quickly pulled away wincing.

Remus stared at them. "Everyone's dismissed," he said lightly. "It looks like we're not going anywhere."

The Order recognized that this was not a recommendation. Soon everyone but those who lived at Grimmuald remained. Even the Weasleys left after Molly quickly hugged Harry and the twins patted him on the shoulder. They had to continue manning the safe houses if people were returning to them.

Remus wanted to yell at the boys but seeing John alive silenced him. John looked dead on his feet. Yet he was standing relatively on his own, only leaning slightly on Harry. That boy. And Remus didn't know whether he meant John or Harry. If he was relieved or angry.

"Narcissa," Remus called. "Can you help me tend to John?"

He had a feeling John would be more comfortable with him than Tonks and, frankly, Narcissa was more skilled in healing charms than any of them.

Narcissa was closer. She reached out a hand for John's arm but she had barely touched him when he flinched away, pinning his arm to his side.

"Don't fucking touch me," he growled.

"John, we need to look you over," Remus tried, also reaching for him.

"You don't need to do anything," John glared. "Your magic won't do anything anyway."

Remus had forgotten. But Remus was also experienced with the muggle-way. John knew this. Remus had bandaged him up before.

He tried to tell John this, reaching out again.

"I mean it, Remus," he said, pulling away. "Don't touch me. Please."

It was the please that did it really. The adrenaline seemed to run out and John's knees buckled. Harry couldn't support his weight but Bobby came over to help. John didn't flinch away from either. Bobby put a hand to John's forehead. John closed his eyes. Remus took another step toward him before thinking better.

"He's running a fever," Bobby told Harry. But John was still conscious, trying to support himself again. "Don't move you moron."

"Don't boss me around bitch."

Bobby smiled looking at Harry who looked mildly relieved. Bobby turned to Remus. "We got him," he told Remus. "I help out in the med lab and I've taken care of John before. He's kind of touchy anyway."

Remus nodded. "What do you need?"

"Bandages, rubbing alcohol or peroxide, possibly some stuff for stitching," he said as he looked over at John. Remus saw some blood soaking through John's t-shirt. Again.

"Do you have any painkillers or something?" Bobby asked, his eyes worried as they rested on his best friend. Remus had seen how close John had gotten to Harry. He thought it was amazing that, with his life, John could let Harry in. Would John have been able to do that if he hadn't had Bobby first?

"Not Vicodin," John snapped.

"I know. Stop being a control freak," Bobby said before looking at Remus. "An anti-inflammatory and asprin might even work."

Remus nodded.

"Hermione, can you collect the bandages and stitching supplies? There's some alcohol in the bottom cabinet of the side table in the living room. We don't have anything else," he turned back to Bobby. "I'm going out to get the rest. I'll pick up actual peroxide there as well."

Bobby only nodded.

"Our room. No apparating," John told Harry.

Harry looked at Bobby. "You think we could both support his weight?"

"I can probably carry him," Bobby responded. "He's light enough. If I can't make it all the way we'll do it that way."

John attempted to push Bobby away from him. "You're not carrying me. I can walk. I ran didn't I?"

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Fine," he stepped away. "Go ahead. Walk." He glanced at Harry who seemed to know what he was doing. He stepped back as well.

"You know what I mean, asshole," John said as he braced himself on the table, glaring at his friend. Remus' final thought as he left the room was that those two were worse than James and Sirius could have ever been. He could only imagine what the teachers at Xavier's had to put up with on a regular basis when the two were both still at the school.

* * *

><p>Harry was rather impressed that Bobby did actually carry John almost all the way. Harry would've felt slightly put off if he hadn't known that John couldn't carry Harry either. They were almost to the room when Bobby put John down and asked Harry to help the rest of the way.<p>

Harry got them into the bedroom and to the bathroom where they sat John on the side of the tub. "Stay there until we have everything," Bobby told John. "Then you're going to have to stand."

John nodded. The bedroom door slowly swung open with a knock. Hermione stepped into the room. Bobby went to meet her and Harry tried to follow. But John apparently still had quick reflexes even like this. He grabbed Harry's arm and tugged him back. The arm with the Dark Mark. Harry's stomach turned as he sat down next to John who leaned slightly into him. Bobby was right. John had a fever.

Bobby returned with everything. "Okay," he said a bit bracingly as he looked at the alcohol. Harry had no idea what it was. He didn't recognize the label. "I guess we'll have to deal with this. Can you get him on his feet?"

Harry nodded, helping John to his feet. He was glad to take orders. He had no idea what he was doing. What would they be doing if Bobby wasn't here?

They leaned him against the sink. "Why is it that adrenaline leaves your body as soon as you get to safety? Kind of inconvenient," John said, wincing as he tugged off his shirt. Harry had to help him get it off the side John was favoring.

Harry's eyes landed on John's side first. It looked like someone had forcibly re-opened the wound in his side. The other cuts were mostly superficial. But Death Eaters had other ways to torture. Worse ways. Like the Cruciatus. And whatever Voldemort had done to John's arm.

Bobby glanced over John's side before eying John's left shoulder. He gently examined it. "Did you not feel anything or are you trying for the illusion of indestructible?"

"It hurt."

"Dislocated shoulder, I think," Bobby announced.

"I knew that."

"Good for you."

Bobby opened the alcohol, grabbing a clean towel and pouring some on it. Before he could put the bottle to the side, John grabbed it.

"Not actually a painkiller, Johnny," Bobby said as John took a drink. "Which now you can't have."

"I always thought alcohol worked better than asprin," John replied, setting the bottle down.

Harry didn't think getting drunk was the best idea. John and Bobby had been very specific to say not Vicodin. Harry was pretty sure that was a narcotic painkiller. How would alcohol be any better? Bobby seemed to agree but he also seemed to pick his battles. Harry guessed that as Bobby had put in more years with John that Harry should follow his lead.

Bobby put the towel to John's side.

John winced. "That one hurt. Did you need to know that?"

Bobby rolled his eyes before looking at Harry. "How do you put up with him?"

Harry shrugged. "He's nicer to me."

Bobby sighed. "Figures."

Harry really really didn't want to, but he was starting to like Bobby.

A.N. Two quick things. Don't expect lots of wandless Harry. I think I may have pushed it here with what he's capable of but Harry always did amazing things while desperate. Also about Bobby being able to carry John….X3 novelization has Bobby carrying Pyro off of Alcatrz to safety so it's possible.


	29. Coming Down

_Mutant Son_

A.N. Thanks again for the feedback! So _Nostalgic Beauty _asked about the novelizations of the X-men movies and whether they have more information on John. The answer: only ever so slightly. You do get more of an idea that John came from a bad background. And in the movie/novelization he's American though when X2 came out the official website gave a little bit more information, saying that Pyro had family in Australia just to keep it semi-consistent with the comics I guess. Probably the biggest thing for me is the fact that, as I said, Iceman goes back for Pyro on Alcatraz instead of letting him die. I think that is more consistent with Iceman's characterization than him just leaving his (ex) friend to die. As for this chapter, it's slowing down a lot. I hope no one gets disappointed. We do find out the final secret about John's street life even if Harry hasn't been told it all, though. Sorry for a longer wait just for this.

**Chapter 29: Coming Down**

Bobby was like a walking air conditioning, Harry decided. Normally at the beginning of December no one would need that. But seeing as John was running a fantastic fever (though Bobby said it was normal as far as John and fevers went), a walking air conditioning was dead useful.

After John had practically passed out on the bed, either from pain or too much alcohol, Harry wasn't sure which, he had grabbed another chair for Bobby and now they both sat by the bed, just waiting. In silence. A very awkward silence. Harry began to fidget.

"You know you can climb into bed with him or something if you want. Tell me to leave, whatever," Bobby said looking over at him.

Harry shrugged. "He probably wouldn't want you to leave."

"And the bed thing?"

Harry didn't answer.

"Okay, so what's the deal?" Bobby asked, sighing. "First you're a complete bastard to me and now I'm getting the silent treatment?"

Harry eyed the carpet uncomfortably. "I was a bit stressed out at the time, not to mention angry. I'm told I'm really unpleasant to be around like that."

"Yeah, I'm sure that's it," Bobby let out sarcastically.

Finally looking up, Harry glared at him. "I don't think it's any of your business anyway."

Bobby caught Harry's glare evenly. "It depends on how you look at it. I've been roommates with John for four years. For three and a half of those he's been my best friend. Now he's decided you're worth dying over. That makes you my business. You see my line of reasoning here?"

In a way Harry guessed he did. Though part of him was saying that he never felt either Ron or Hermione's relationships were any of his business, the other was reminding him that those relationships never dealt in life or death. Bobby had been looking after John for years, picking up after him as Harry often thought. Did he expect Bobby to suddenly sit back and let things unfold? Still, Harry wasn't having this conversation.

"Ask John," Harry finally said. "I'm sure he'll tell you. He thinks it's stupid."

Bobby nodded. "He probably would. But I'm asking you because I like you, despite your animosity or whatever towards me. And I think I should know this guy's that actually tamed the untamable. Do you have any idea how wild he was?"

Harry winced. "I've got the basic idea."

John began to move.

"Bobby," he groaned. Harry's stomach dropped. "Stop it with the fucking AC." Harry could breathe again.

"Sorry man, you're boy toy distracted me."

Harry looked at him, half amused and half irritated. "Boy toy?"

Bobby shrugged, sending him a large grin. The guy did not give up. Harry just wanted to dislike him.

"Yeah, well, he's my boy toy, Drake, get your own," John mumbled, partially sitting up. He must've leaned on the wrong arm because he hissed.

"I'll skip, thanks," Bobby rolled his eyes.

"And I want my boy toy."

"He's drunk isn't he?" Harry asked, nevertheless getting up and going over. He sat on the edge of the bed.

"I'm not drunk. I just hurt and wanna go to sleep. So lay the fuck down."

"I'm not tired."

"I don't care. You made me sleep alone for a month. I'm tired of waking up without you," John continued a bit blearily.

"Johnny, you're drunk," Harry said, though giving in. "You wouldn't have said that otherwise."

"I would've thought it though," John responded, curling up next to Harry. "Now sleep." Harry put a hand in John's hair and John closed his eyes. What would Harry have done if he had lost him? "Don't leave."

"I'll leave you two alone," Bobby said getting up.

"You don't have to," Harry responded, yawning. He might've told John that he wasn't tired, but he hadn't slept in two days.

Bobby just shook his head. "You're too nice sometimes. John's right. You do have two personalities."

* * *

><p>"Johnny."<p>

John turned his face into his pillow. He did not want to wake up. It was comfortable here next to Harry who…who John couldn't feel anymore.

"Johnny, I have to go." That was Harry's voice. "And if you don't wake up now then I won't be here when you do. I thought you didn't want that."

John cracked his eyes open. "I'm up," he said. Ah, sun. Why was Harry in line with the window?

But whatever because Harry looked pleased. He kissed John on his forehead before moving to get up. What was John, four? So John tugged on Harry's sleeve, pulling him down to get a real kiss.

Harry pulled away, rolling his eyes. "Go back to sleep. I'll send Bobby in."

John nodded before returning to his pillow. The door closed before opening again only a few moments later. As much as John wished Harry hadn't gotten up, having Bobby here was good, too. They hadn't seen each other in months.

"So do you plan on sleeping?" Bobby asked. "I mean, go ahead, I just don't know whether this is you going back to sleep or being hung over."

"I'm awake," John sighed, moving to sit up. He winced as he jolted his shoulder and pulled at his stitches.

"Here." Bobby handed him a glass of water and asprin. John glared at the asprin before sighing and downing them.

"Ew, do that with water." So just to be annoying, John swallowed pointedly again before taking a drink of water. "Seriously, what does Harry see in you?"

But John was a little too tired for verbal sparring. "I'm sure there's something," he said instead. Bobby threw something at him, some sort of cloth. John held it up. A sling. "I'm not wearing this."

"Yes you are," Bobby rolled his eyes. "Otherwise your shoulder's going to take forever to heal. I mean it's in place but not quite operating." Bobby sighed. "Come on, John, just put it on."

John looked at it before setting it aside. "When I get up."

They sat in silence. The thing with Bobby was that John could just sit in a nice non-awkward silence with him. Until he got bored.

Or until Bobby did. "So how old is Harry?"

"Seventeen," John answered.

"Ah."

"What are you 'ahing' Drake?" John eyed him suspiciously.

"Nothing," Bobby said quickly. "I just didn't expect him to be so young."

"He's only two years younger than us," John geared up to get defensive.

"But he was what? Sixteen when you two started fooling around," Bobby said before seeing the look on John's face. "It's just a little weird."

"Weird?" John repeated.

Bobby looked uncomfortable. "Don't look at me like that John. You know I basically teach kids his age. Even if it is unofficial."

John shrugged. He got where Bobby was coming from but Harry wasn't a kid. Thinking of him that way just skeeved John out. "Mileage, man."

Bobby nodded slowly. "I guess."

"What is this?" John asked, exasperated. "You think I'm taking advantage of some kid?"

Bobby shook his head earnestly. "No. It's just…combining his age with the fact you said he was a virgin—"

"Not anymore."

"Yeah, I figured that much out on my own, thanks. All I'm saying is that I worry. And not for him, for you. I just want to make sure your placing all your bets on someone mature enough to get what that means."

John sighed. Yet again, Bobby Drake was watching out for him. And it was damn irritating even if it was nice having someone watch your back. Harry's brand of irritating was that 'for your own good' mentality. Personally, John found that one more annoying.

"Bobby," he said, choosing not to be angry. John was too tired and Bobby didn't actually deserve it at the moment. "He's mature enough. He's playing with the big boys. Has been since long before I met him. You can't see the things he's seen, do the things he's done, and still be a kid."

Bobby nodded, slightly chastised. "I guess I can see that. I mean he can be scary as hell. Like intimidating. He had that Malfoy kid pinned to the wall and practically peeing his pants. Not to mention when you stopped him from…well whatever he was about to do to that woman. And his plan did get us all in and out alive. But…" Bobby paused. "Okay, he told me to ask this so you have permission from him and everything. Any idea why he was such a bastard to me? Well in the beginning but still. It was kind of childish."

John laughed but only for a moment because it hurt. "That?" he held back a smile. "The guy's jealous of you."

"Jealous?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Because I told him I would've screwed you if I could've."

Silence. "What?" John held back another laugh. "John, _why_ would you tell him that?"

John shrugged. "Was just being honest." Bobby continued to look at him strangely. "Bobby you're my best friend, you're good looking, and I'm sex obsessed. No one has to tell me that. Of course I'd want to give it a go with you. Well, wanted." The look didn't pass. "Bobby, you're a good looking guy. Get over it."

"Does this have anything to do with why you chase all my girlfriends away?"

"Nah, that's just because I'm a selfish bastard who doesn't like to share."

"So the usual," Bobby said wisely before grinning. "You know it's not exactly a compliment that a guy who would sleep with anyone would sleep with me. Just makes me one of the crowd really."

"No more crowd. It's an exclusive club nowadays. I'm not sleeping with anyone except Harry from now on." Bobby looked surprised. "I mean it. He's…I don't know I can't explain it. It's just not really about the sex."

Bobby smiled. "Ah, first you rant and now you wax poetic."

"What kind of poems are you reading?" John asked, somewhat amused.

Bobby looked at him curiously for a moment. "So what does it feel like? Being in love?"

"You mean you're getting blue balls over Rogue for nothing?" John asked. Bobby didn't look impressed. "It was a legit question, man. So you're really asking me this?" He nodded. "Well, maybe I'm doing it wrong but it hurts half the time. Then I'm just pleased if he fucking smiles, never mind anything else. I wanna hurt anyone who takes that away, by asking too much from him or trying to kill him, either one really. And it's gotten to the point that I can't sleep well without him. I mean, dude, he trusts me. Me. Let's think about that one for a second. It's like he thinks I could be a good man. I'm starting to fucking think it."

Bobby looked at the ground. "You should, think that I mean. You're the only one keeping you from being a good man." He paused, "You know, I asked Scott what being in love's like once. Definitely a different answer."

"So, what? Just because it's not in line with the Gospel of Cyclops or something, I'm all wrong?" John snapped.

Bobby looked surprised. "No, I'm not saying that. Don't get defensive over nothing. It's just…what I'm saying is, it's the kind of 'in love' I'd expect from you. You're kind of an overly intense guy. It's fitting. But I don't like that you say it hurts. Just putting that out there."

John didn't answer instead leaning his head back on the headboard. He and Harry definitely were overly intense. Probably since the beginning. But neither of them knew what they were doing and they both kind of fell into this. Harry was love starved and John…well, John was thinking it was just another addictive personality trait to add to his list.

"Where did Harry go, anyway?" Bobby asked, glancing at the door.

John sighed. He hadn't wanted to think about it. "Probably to face the music. The Order's not going to be happy with him. If I didn't feel so crappy or even if I thought Harry would let me do anything about it, I'd be down there too."

"They really weren't going to rescue you?" Bobby asked quietly.

John shrugged. "If Harry came to them with his plan they might have. Harry's got trust issues. He's gotta do things himself and if there's even a small chance someone will stop him, he'll go it alone."

As he moved to get in a more comfortable position, his arm caught his eye. The Dark Mark glared at him, jet black against pale skin. It almost looked as if ink got into the blood vessels surrounding the mark. He really hoped that at least would go away.

"What is that thing anyway?" Bobby asked, following John's eyes.

"The Dark Mark," John said, eyes fixed to the mark. "My father and his flunkies hang it in the sky after every attack. And all of the flunkies have it branded to them like this."

"So why did he put it on you?"

"I rubbed it in his face that I had something he didn't. So he marked me as his during a spectacular temper tantrum. You think mine are bad? He accompanies his with torture." John sighed. "It's about to make my life more complicated." He couldn't leave Harry to explain this.

John went to get up.

"Whoa, where are you going?" Bobby stood to stop him.

"Just realized I can't let Harry face them alone. He's gonna be getting a lot of shit because of me." John glared at Bobby as he stood. His muscles complained. "Don't stop me."

"Wear your sling."

"Don't be a nag."

"I'll stop being a nag when you start taking care of yourself." Bobby matched his glare. "Now put the sling on."

"Fine." John maneuvered his arm into the sling a bit roughly. Ow. "See you later."

* * *

><p>They had gotten through the Order meeting without any mention of Harry's actions the night before. Remus didn't think it was really any of the Order's business. Yeah, Harry did something incredibly stupid and Remus was going to talk to him about it, but not in a room full of people. Almost half the Order was at this particular meeting and Harry was doing his very best to blend into the background. Finally it was time to wrap things up.<p>

"Thank you for coming. If we come by any more information, we'll let everyone know," Remus said before standing, indicating the end of the meeting. Hermione began handing out the DA coins. He still found it odd that he had ended up leading the Order, a werewolf, and that a couple of teenagers were his closest advisors. And his wife of course. Moody and Kingsley were now dead and McGonagall stuck on Death Eater territory.

Remus met Harry's eyes, silently telling him to stay after everyone had left. But before that could happen, John entered the room. He looked terrible but he was steady on his feet.

John scanned the room briefly before finding Remus and heading towards him. Harry cut him off. They exchanged quiet words and it looked as if they were arguing.

"Hey, everyone," John finally said loudly. Harry moved away, frustrated and defeated. Those that had been leaving turned around.

Remus stepped up. "For our new members, this is St. John Allerdyce, or Pyro. Normally he would've been in attendance but he should really be in bed."

"Pyro?" Amos Diggory said, looking at John curiously. Harry noticed Amos for the first time and seemed to attempt again to sink into the background. But Amos didn't look at him. "There are rumors. Are you really You-Know-Who's son?"

John nodded. Eyes were fixed on him, even those who had known who he was. Most of them hadn't heard much out of him before though they knew he was part of the inner circle so to speak. "Yeah, my old man's Voldemort. He doesn't particularly like me though."

"John, you really should get back to bed. You shouldn't be on your feet," Hermione said, moving towards him. She glanced around at the other members. "John was recently one of You-Know-Who's prisoners."

Muttering broke out. "I'll go back to bed later," John rolled his eyes. He fidgeted with his sling. "I just figured I'd let everyone in on something before they think I'm hiding something." John rolled up his sleeve, revealing the Dark Mark. Remus tensed. He knew that John wouldn't have ever taken the mark voluntarily. To have it forced on him? It must have been excruciating. It also reduced his chances of ever being seen as more than Voldemort's son.

The room went silent, some eying him warily. Others like the Weasleys, Tonks, and a few DA members such as Angelina, Lee, and Katie Bell turned their eyes to Harry, clearly only worrying about what that meant rather than the threat John posed.

"My father gave me this," John said lightly. "Didn't appreciate something I said. He said I was his. The thing is I'm not, never have been, never will be. Just thought I'd let you all know before more people distrust me. More than they already do, I mean."

Some looked unconvinced. Even a few members that were used to John's presence and the level of trust not only Harry bestowed on him. Now it was also Remus, Tonks, Hermione, and even a few of the Weasleys.

Harry stopped trying to pretend to not exist. "Get over it," he said, moving towards John. "He's in a sling and looks like crap but what everyone seems to be focusing on is the mark on his arm."

"What if he's been sent to infiltrate the Order? What if he's had it all along?" someone in the back asked.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Sure and Voldemort decided to put an incriminating mark on his forearm to help with his cover. And I can ensure everyone that he hasn't had it all along. I see him naked on a regular basis with the sex and all, I'm sure I would've noticed that."

The room fell silent again. Most of the Order had already known of their relationship but to have it said out loud was something else. The newest members like Amos Diggory and John Dawlish grew wide-eyed.

John didn't bother to hide his grin. It was something he would've said, not Harry. Remus was relieved to see the grin. It meant that John was mostly okay, even if it lacked its usual cheek.

"Now that we've gotten that out of the way," Harry continued. "I'd like to point out that he was tortured." John lost his grin, glaring at Harry. Remus imagined that John would rather be mistrusted than viewed as a victim. "His father was perfectly willing to kill him. So don't question John's loyalties. I'm tired of it."

Remus was always surprised to see the way Harry moved from the kid trying not to be noticed to someone that had to be listened to. Most of the members had taken that as a dismissal and only a few remained behind. Molly had bee-lined to John.

"Oh, dear, you look like you need some food," she said, taking John's chin in her hand and studying the shadows under his eyes. John only put up a half-hearted struggle. "I'll go make you something." The twins laughed at their mother's antics.

"Better heal up, eh?" Fred asked as he and George walked over to John.

"Harry's been rather unpleasant all month," George added. "Do us a favor and work some of that tension out of him." George clapped Harry on the shoulder.

"Speaking of," Fred said turning away. "I've been meaning to talk to Angelina…"

George laughed, following behind Fred and out of the drawing room. John sat down on the nearest chair. Harry went to join him.

Remus was stopped in his observation by Amos's approach.

"Lupin," he said, holding out his hand. Remus smiled politely, taking it for a handshake. He had never really interacted much with Amos but he knew he was a good man, if not a bit traditional. While he never treated Remus with disrespect, during previous interactions Amos had been clearly uncomfortable.

"Amos," Remus greeted, gesturing to a seat. "Won't you sit?"

They both sat in chairs close to the fireplace which was flickering. Remus glanced over at John who was staring at it.

"I must say, I've heard nothing but good things," Amos said. "From Arthur as well as the other members. Cedric told me you were the best DADA teacher he ever had." Amos's face was sad but his tone said that he was dealing with his grief.

"Thank you. Cedric was one of my best students. He was a good boy." They sat for a few moments in respect for Cedric. A boy, Remus thought. Harry's age in fact.

"Do you think it would be possible for me to speak with Potter?" Amos asked, glancing over to where Harry and John sat. Hermione approached them and Harry spoke to her. Nodding, she waited as John got up. John sighed before following Hermione out, probably going back to bed or to Bobby. Harry watched him leave before meeting Remus's eyes. He headed over.

"It seems possible," Remus responded. "He's coming over right now."

"Mr. Diggory," Harry greeted slowly. Did he expect Amos to blame him?

"Potter," Amos said, smiling at him, standing to shake his hand before returning to his seat.

Harry looked over at Remus. "Are you going to scold me?"

Remus smiled. "You're not a child. Also I don't think scolding would do anything anyway. You'd go in again." Remus wondered why Harry was doing this in front of Amos. Maybe Harry decided it was nothing to hide, that people were going to have to deal with it. Remus didn't know if an attitude like that would be an improvement for Harry. It meant Harry would step up and lead but it also meant he'd get more independent. Harry was going to get himself killed unless he let the Order into his personal war effort.

"I would. And not just for John," Harry said, as if confirming Remus's thoughts, before turning back to a confused Amos. "I broke into Death Eater headquarters to get John," he said, shrugging as if it was an everyday thing. "Anyway, I came over because I thought you deserved to know something. Peter Pettigrew, the man who helped murder Cedric, is dead. John killed him."

Amos swallowed, nodding. "Justice, then." Harry looked away. "Potter, I just wanted to let you know that neither my wife nor I blame you for Cedric's death. We should have told you when you came to us with your Triwizard winnings but it was too soon. I do regret that, letting a fourteen year old boy walk away with that guilt. Thank you. Thank you for bringing my boy's body back."

Harry nodded. "I couldn't have left him." And Remus saw that fourteen year old boy again, if only for a moment. He turned to leave.

"Harry," Remus said grabbing his attention. "Next time you decide to break in someplace, let us help you. If we had realized Draco had a way to get in, we would've gone in for John, too. You need to trust that the Order will back you up. You can't keep going off on your own."

Harry looked at him doubtfully. "I've been doing just fine. I have people to trust."

"Nevertheless," Remus inserted though it hurt to realize that he was not one of those people. "Perhaps you should ask for help from someone other than a couple of teenagers next time." That did it. Let Harry know that he put other people in danger and you may get through to him, Remus thought. Harry said nothing, just leaving.

He turned back to Remus. "I apologize. I had to speak to him before I lost all my anger at him."

Amos nodded. "Yes, a good approach with a teenage boy." And if Remus didn't just feel like a parent sharing parenting approaches. Amos swallowed. "Potter is, well he's gay?"

Remus smiled tolerantly. It was clear many in the Order were uncomfortable with it, true to wizarding form. But they had enough respect for Harry to skip over an apparent character flaw. Not that Remus thought it was anywhere close to a flaw.

"He's in a relationship with another boy, yes. It was indeed rather a surprise. But don't let that affect your opinion of Harry. He's as much a leader of this Order as I am."

"He's just a boy."

"Wait until you see him in battle," Remus responded. "Harry is exceptional. Something for Voldemort to fear, I'm sure."

* * *

><p>Bobby was gone. He hadn't wanted to go before John was completely on his feet, but John pointed out the Bobby had classes to take and responsibilities: X-Men training and school duties. That had done it. Bobby was always a slave to his responsibilities. He had hugged John before he left, it seemed to be his new thing. John tolerated it for a few seconds until he called Bobby a girl. Bobby had laughed and told him to say bye to Harry for him. And now it was just John and Harry. Hermione tried to give them space. John thought that she feared that Harry was angry with her. He might've been. For once, John couldn't tell.<p>

So now they sat on the bed playing wizarding chess. John was tired of sleeping and he was still hurting enough that fooling around wasn't an option. According to Harry and John thought he was probably right. So instead, John was kicking Harry' ass in chess.

"Doesn't chess ruin your bad boy image or something," Harry asked frustrated when John beat him for the fifth time in a row.

John smirked. "The Professor taught me when he realized I wasn't going to talk to him." At Harry's questioning look, John continued. "He attempted therapy with me. So we played chess until eventually he handed me over to Scott."

"I met him," Harry said. "Intense guy."

"Tell me about it. I spent the first few months at the mansion attempting to break him. When I wasn't getting detentions for fighting with Bobby."

"It wasn't friendship at first sight?"

"It really really wasn't," John said, setting up for another game. "How about your friends?"

"Ron and I became friends pretty quickly, on our way to Hogwarts," Harry said, watching John make his first move. "Hermione. Well, she was an annoying know-it-all. She was obsessed with the rules and got on our case regularly."

"How'd you become friends?" John asked. They were having a legitimate conversation about non-war things. It was probably about time honestly.

"Ron and I saved her from a troll."

"A troll?" John watched as Harry partially ignored him, completely failing to hide his smile. "When was this?"

"Halloween first year," Harry said, finally making his move. "I jumped on its back to distract it and Ron knocked it out."

"You jumped on its back at eleven." Harry nodded. "You really need to work on those self preservation skills."

"Haven't died yet," Harry smiled cheekily.

"Not for lack of trying." John shook his head in not quite disbelief. Quite expected really.

This was nice, playing chess with violent pieces, talking to Harry. No war. But he had things to tell Harry. He couldn't let Harry find out the hard way.

"Harry…" John swallowed as Harry looked up at him. "My father knows."

"Knows what?" Harry asked, eyebrows furrowed.

John sighed. "About us. I was thinking about you and he was like listening in. But that's not how he actually found out." John paused. "It was only a matter of time though. So I used it."

"You used our relationship to bait Voldemort?" Harry asked for clarification, both his face and voice unreadable. John didn't like it. He could almost always read Harry.

John nodded. "It's why he gave me this," John gestured to his arm though his button up shirt covered his forearm.

"What did you say?"

John wasn't repeating it. "Nothing you wanna hear."

"Something crude," Harry decided. "But why would that make him angry? Because his son chose me?"

"Harry," John moved his hand towards his pocket, felt for his lighter though he didn't pull it out. "Voldemort's about power, right?" Harry nodded hesitantly. "So is sex. Well, a lot of the time. I used that. I told him I had power over you, that you were mine. So he decided to make me his."

Harry was silent for a moment before he turned back to the game. "Okay."

"Okay?" John asked disbelievingly.

"Yeah, okay. Do you want me to get angry? Like you said, he would've found out anyway."

"I used you as a playing piece." Why was John trying to make Harry angry at him? John didn't know.

"Not surprising, really," Harry said shrugging. "Seriously, John, I'm not mad."

Was Harry for real? Man, John really loved this guy. They returned to their game. John took out a few of Harry's pieces.

"I am you know," Harry said quietly, eyes carefully glued to the chess board. He slowly looked up at John. "Not mad. Yours."

John didn't miss a beat. "Well, that's good. Because I'm yours, too."

Harry smiled at him. John returned it.

"You're stuck with me," John informed Harry.

They went back to their game. Harry seemed to stand a chance this game but it was short-lived.

"I don't want to play anymore," Harry announced as his pieces grumbled at him. John grinned even as Harry suddenly looked pensive. "Do you think Bellatrix is dead?"

"No," John said simply.

"I wanted to kill her."

"I know." But how could Harry think that John would ever let that happen?

Harry sighed. "You can't protect me forever. Eventually, you're going to have to let me do my job."

John shrugged. "You lead. You bring them down. I kill them. It's as simple as that."

Harry got up from his seat to sit next to John. "Don't do that again," he said as he leaned into John.

John swung his arm over Harry's shoulder. It was a little awkward. His other arm was still in a sling. "Killing for you?" John asked.

"No, getting kidnapped. I can't do this without you. Not anymore," Harry confessed. John pulled Harry in closer but felt where the Mark made contact with Harry's shoulder. He pulled away. That was never going to touch Harry again.

"What?" Harry asked, eyebrows furrowed. "You're not freaking out on me, are you?"

"No," John said, refusing to say anything else. But Harry grabbed John's arm and rolled up the sleeve.

"It's this, right?" Harry asked, studying it. John still didn't answer. But Harry pulled his arm closer and traced the Mark. John closed his eyes. He didn't like this. Harry leant down and kissed it. Voldemort's mark. John tensed.

"I'll make Voldemort pay for touching you. You're right, you're mine," Harry said still looking at the Mark. "But this is your skin. The fact that it's marked means nothing to me."

John looked at Harry. If he was an outsider looking in, he'd find all this pathetically nauseating, the whole conversation really. But this meant more to him than Harry could know. He tried not to let show how much the Dark Mark was torturing him. John was his own man. Harry's too, of course. Never his father's. Never.

John leaned in and kissed Harry. He pulled the sling of his arm as he straddled Harry.

"You're hurt," Harry warned.

But Harry relaxed as John settled comfortably on him. He settled a hand against John's back to support him. Yeah, John hurt but he over-ruled his previous thought. This was worth it.

"You won't hurt me, will you?" John asked, kissing Harry again. Harry twisted a hand into John's hair. It was a definite change of roles. Even when Harry had struggled for dominance John had never let him. At least not for long. Even after Harry's fight with Malfoy, John had finally regained control as Harry had become less confident, not knowing what to do. As John had just told Harry, sex was about power, control. He had refused to give that over, even to Harry.

"What are we doing here?" Harry pulled away.

"You're hopeless," John rolled his eyes. "I'm giving it up. Act on it before I change my mind."

"I don't—"

John forcefully kissed Harry. "Just mimic what I do."

Harry studied him for a moment before smiling, slipping a hand under John's shirt, gently avoiding the bandages. John moaned. That was all the encouragement Harry needed. Which was good because there was no going back. John hoped Harry knew exactly what this meant.

* * *

><p>Harry curled up as closely to John as he could manage, watching him doze off. That was…well, Harry couldn't explain it. He knew it was a big deal what they just did. John had shown an incredible degree of trust in him and it had excellent consequences. Really, really excellent consequences. Repeat performance, hopefully.<p>

"Stop thinking," John mumbled. So he hadn't dozed off.

"Sorry," Harry smiled. "It's just…"

"I get it," John said sleepily. "Repeat performance when I feel better?"

"You read my mind," Harry responded. John threw an arm around Harry.

"Must be a secondary mutation." John opened his eyes fully. "You know I've been thinking—"

"Hypocrite."

"Funny," John rolled his eyes, smiling lazily. "Anyway, been thinking. It's not fair you got a nickname for me. I just have Harry."

"My name's no good for nicknames," Harry agreed.

"Sure, baby."

"No."

"Aw come on, baby."

"Doubly no."

"Ruining my fun," John sighed.

"And besides, 'boy wonder' seems like a nickname to me," Harry pointed out.

"Not the same thing as 'Johnny'," John returned. "I guess you'll just have to keep being Harry. You sure about 'baby'?"

Harry stared at John. He really hoped John was kidding. Baby? He wasn't a girl. Maybe that wasn't fair. Guy, girl, he should stop stereotyping. But he already had to learn to accept the term boyfriend, baby wasn't happening. "Yes, I'm sure. Now shut up, I'm going to sleep."

He turned over and John moved behind him. Harry closed his eyes, but something was bothering him.

"Hey, John."

"Mm-hm," John said, refusing to open his eyes.

"Why won't you take Vicodin?"

John's eyes opened. He met Harry's eyes. Harry didn't like this silence.

"I thought you were going to sleep." John said slowly. Did asking that go too far? But John took a risk.

"My mom," John started. "She took off when I was little. She was a druggie. My dad always told me she was a coke whore, but I remember seeing her shooting up. Probably heroin but who knows? I was really young. The thing is, I'm a lot like my mom." John paused and Harry waited, giving him his time. He wanted to tell John not to stop there but he knew doing so would probably end the conversation. "I've used. Not coke or heroin but I experimented with stuff. Depressants particularly. I liked barbies—barbiturates, but I always held back. I didn't want to be my mom. When I realized I had a chance at something else at the mansion I stopped. Everything but alcohol I guess. And I'm not going to fuck that up. So no Vicodin, no nothing."

Harry didn't say anything. John's life was so different from his. Harry was used to life or death situations, to losing people, to going it alone in the end. But stuff like this? He hadn't a clue. What was he supposed to say? John had a terrible life. Drugs, the things he had to do for money. Torture? Things that led to STD screenings?

"I told you Harry. I'm fucked up," John said slowly.

"Tomorrow you're taking Vicodin," Harry said, continuing when it looked like John was going to interrupt. "Regulated. And you're going to see that you're not your mother. Not your father either."

"Harry—"

"No, John," Harry said without hesitating and as strongly as possible. "Asprin's not doing anything and, frankly, Vicodin is a whole lot more healthy than getting completely smashed."

"You have too much confidence in me," John said disbelievingly. "Bobby just respects my limits."

"I'm not Bobby," Harry reminded him and he was tired of the comparison. "And I think the issue is that you don't have nearly enough confidence in yourself."

"I have plenty of confidence," John smirked. "It borders on arrogance really."

"Yeah, well, I'm not the only one with two personalities."

A.N. As I said, the basics of John's pre-mansion have been revealed. Child abuse, stealing cars, pick-pocketing, selling himself occasionally, and some drugs. The first is how he ended up on the streets and eventually at the mansion. The next three he did to survive and the fourth? Well, that's how he was able to do it.


	30. Questions of Loyalty

_Mutant Son_

A.N. Sorry for the long wait. I'm in the process of moving so it's been pretty hectic. Also the most recent chapter and the coming ones are a bit difficult to write. I've known where I'm going with this for a while but I realized in my planning process I skipped a good deal of time.

Also I finally decided on what to do about X2. I mentioned in the beginning of the story that I was only post-poning those events. But I've decided to go AU with this. X2 already happened but John never went with Magneto. When he left the plane in the movie, he hadn't been intentionally looking for Magneto. He just found him. Here, he never left the plane. X3 events are post-poned then. Also, I watched an interview with Aaron Stanford recently when I was looking into next season of Nikita. He said that in X2 Pyro struggled with what side he was on. Even in X3 he wasn't completely sure but he had chosen a side. Though I never saw any internal struggle in Pyro during X3 (the brief scenes he was in anyway) I figure that a big part of a character is the way an actor portray him/her so I'll go with Aaron Stanford's interpretation. It is true that comic book Pyro eventually realizes before he dies that he regretted his actions in the Brotherhood.

And to complete this long AN, I just wanted to repeat something I said in the first chapter. A reviewer asked why I don't write sex scenes. Not only do I not think I could do one justice, I also want to focus on their relationship not their sex. Even if this is slash, I hope to make people who don't traditionally read slash comfortable enough to read my story. Slash doesn't always have to be about the sex scene. My interest is always the relationship. And not making things read awkwardly like it would if I even attempted any sort of sex scene, regardless of the gender combination!

**Chapter 30: Questions of Loyalty**

"Hello, Minerva."

"Headmaster," she responded, hating it with every inch of her being. Severus Snape, Albus's murderer, was now headmaster at Hogwarts. Minerva could hardly bear the thought. "Is there something you needed?"

Snape had sought her out in her office. Her old Transfiguration office. Needless to say, Albus's office was no longer hers. It was Snape's.

"Yes, actually," he said, striding in and taking a seat without waiting for the offer. "I have some gossip if you'd like. About Potter."

Minerva tried not to look interested. Besides the propaganda You-Know-Who was spewing out in the Daily Prophet, she knew nothing of the war. Of the Order. Was he fishing for information? For once, Minerva was happy she didn't know anything.

"It seems that only a few days ago, he visited Malfoy Manor," Snape said quietly, black eyes carefully studying her.

"Is that so?" Minerva said, pretending to go back to her grading.

"No need to worry," he continued. "He is no longer there. The Potter luck still holds. He got in and out. Draco has apparently joined him."

"Draco Malfoy?" she asked, unable to hide her shock. Yes, Draco and his mother were being sheltered at Order headquarters but joined? She would never expect it from Draco.

"Indeed."

"And may I ask why Potter and Malfoy were there?"

Snape looked down at his skeletal hands. "The Dark Lord was eager to meet his son. Imagine his disappointment when he discovered just how loyal to Potter Pyro is."

"Yes, imagine that," Minerva responded, uninterested air back in place. "I don't see how this is gossip. I am fully aware of St. John's loyalty to Potter."

"And their relationship?"

Minerva paused. "Relationship?"

"No need to hide it," Snape said watching her closely. "The Dark Lord knows all about it. St. John," he said sarcastically. "Was more than happy to divulge. And Potter went in after him, did he not?"

"Harry would go in after anyone," Minerva said sharply.

"Yes, Harry," Snape looked amused. "The thing is, Pyro revealed their physical relationship but he made a mistake, along with Potter. They revealed the extent of their emotional relationship to the Dark Lord as well. Pyro is willing to kill for Potter."

Minerva leveled Snape with one of her unimpressed stares. "Pyro will kill for any number of reasons." After Diagon Alley she thought that wouldn't be true, but his torturing of Peter Pettigrew proved differently. Not to mention the few Death Eaters he had killed in Hogsmeade. Pyro showed remorse when he knew he had lost control but he was now remorseless once he made the decision to kill.

"Hmm…I see. But to step in? Prevent Potter from killing someone only to kill the person himself?"

Minerva didn't give anything away but she understood now how the extent of their relationship had been betrayed. It was true. Pyro would not allow Potter to lose that innocence.

"So I take it that one of your colleagues has passed?"

"Not that I am aware of. Have any of the professors met with an accident?"

"Your other job, Severus," Minerva said returning to her papers. She hated this man. She hated that she once respected him, was once fond of him.

"Bellatrix will recover," Snape said standing. "Though I dare say Pyro has made a very dangerous enemy. I will see you tomorrow."

She watched him leave before reaching into her pocket. She was glad that Granger had made her a DA coin before the attack. Tapping her wand, she set the meeting. Room of Requirement, two hours.

The castle had indeed begun to fight back. Shortly after the Death Eaters had gained control of Hogwarts, it began to protect the students. There was no longer a single entrance to the Room of Requirements. It appeared in any empty hallway where a person asked.

The wards had apparently failed them. With the light show, she thought that Pyro and Potter's blood would do something. But maybe it did. She heard rumors that You-Know-Who had tried to enter the grounds. And the wards resisted him. But how come the Death Eaters got in so easily? She sighed. She had students to meet.

Two hours later, most of the students Minerva expected had arrived. These students avoided being tardy, not like Pyro and Potter who were too comfortable in their roles in the war.

"I finally have news," Minerva announced. Faces were serious, too serious. She had never thought she would ever want her students to misbehave in class but now she would be happy to see it.

Her eyes landed on Ron Weasley and his sister Ginny. The other Gryffindor boys sat nearby. She should've told them first but it was too late.

"Our esteemed headmaster has informed me that Harry Potter has been sighted," she continued. Ron sat up straighter. "He got in and out of Death Eater headquarters unharmed."

Some muttering broke out. "Wait. Why?" Ron asked, ignoring the muttering.

Minerva sighed. She had no idea what Ron actually thought of his best friend's relationship with Pyro. "Apparently Pyro was captured."

"Pyro," Ginny Weasley said slowly. "Harry risked his life for You-Know-Who's son? How is that good news?"

"Because," Ron said annoyed. "It means they're still fighting. That Harry's okay. Hell, even Pyro's okay." He suddenly turned to Minerva. "Pyro's okay right? You didn't say."

"I was told that Potter rescued him," Minerva answered. "With Draco Malfoy's help."

That re-started the muttering, louder this time. Longbottom smiled. "Only Harry Potter," he said shaking his head.

"But Potter went in for You-Know-Who's son?" Macmillan asked, clearly perturbed. "He risked his life for the enemy's son?" He seemed completely confused.

"Yes," Minerva replied. "But Pyro is solidly on our side. He would do anything for Potter." Minerva knew that it was only a matter of time until knowledge of their relationship spread if the Death Eaters knew.

"It's true," Ron added. "I hate the guy but I don't doubt his loyalty to Harry."

Her students looked around at each other. Minerva noticed the unhappy expression on Ginny's face. Did she even know of her ex-boyfriend's current relationship? The look on her face seemed to suggest so but Ginny had stopped liking Pyro long ago.

"Besides, he's dead useful in a fight," Ron continued.

"Indeed," Minerva hid a smile.

* * *

><p>"Stop calling me that," Harry said, rolling his eyes as he attempted to stare intently at the Marauder's Map.<p>

John kissed Harry's neck. "You'll come around, baby."

"I hate you," Harry sighed, sinking back into the couch. John grinned in victory. "How long until this gets old?"

John shrugged. "Could last a while."

"I should have just let you keep taking asprin. Maybe then you'd be in too much pain to talk."

Hermione watched them as discreetly as possible. It had been a few days since Harry had rescued John and she hadn't spoken to either of them yet. John had pulled away when she hugged him and Harry had made no attempt to speak to her. She was convinced he was angry.

Hermione wasn't the only one watching them but at least she was doing it discreetly. Angelina and Katie Bell were sitting beside her, reviewing the Daily Prophets from the last few weeks they were finally able to get a hold of, though they tended to get easily distracted by Harry and John.

"They're…" Angelina said, unabashedly staring. "I don't know. Sort of…"

"Cute?" Katie suggested. Hermione practically snorted. "What?"

"Cute?" Hermione asked glancing again at her best friend and his boyfriend. John continued to harass Harry as he tried to be productive. "You really do not know them."

"Well, obviously John's an asshole," Angelina agreed. After he had been kidnapped, Hermione noticed that more DA members at least started calling John by his first name. "And we all know Harry has a temper but that?" Angelina gestured to the two boys. John had finally got Harry to put the map down and laugh. John looked particularly smug as he pulled over the chess board? He played chess? "Come on look at that."

Katie nodded. "It's always nice to see Harry smile instead of that intense brooding frown he usually has going."

"Brooding?" Hermione asked. Katie nodded. She had never thought of Harry as brooding but maybe the word was partially fitting. She returned to the Daily Prophet, this time trying to actually pay attention. It paid off.

"Harry," she called.

Harry looked up and catching the expression on her face headed over. She met him half-way, handing over the newspaper. His eyebrows furrowed as he quickly flipped to the front page article and began to read.

"What?" John asked, looking at the Daily Prophet as he approached.

Harry ran his hand through his hair, smiling weakly. "We've made the papers," he said, throwing the paper to John.

John looked at him questioningly before turning to the article. His face remained blank. "Fuck." Angelina and Katie came over and he glanced at them before dismissing them.

"How'd they find out?" Hermione asked.

"I told them," John answered simply. "Well, told my father."

"John," Hermione began to scold.

"Hermione," Harry interrupted. "He was going to find out anyway. You know John's incapable of thinking about anything except sex." He sent a small smile towards John, showing that he was kidding. But John didn't even seem to notice.

"True enough," John agreed still staring at the paper. Hermione snorted. Always keeping up the act.

"What's happened?" Katie asked.

Hermione took the paper from John, holding up the front page.

_**Undesirable No. 2**_

_**St. John Allerdyce, alias Pyro**_

"This is kind of awesome," Angelina said after reading over Katie's shoulder. "Why are you Undesirable No. 2?"

"_**St. John Allerdyce, a fire controlling mutant who goes by the alias Pyro, is wanted due to his association with Undesirable No. 1. Allerdyce is a person of interest in a number of fire-related deaths. His romantic involvement with Undesirable No. 1 may indicate intimate knowledge of the terrorist group known as the Order of the Phoenix.**_"

"Terrorist group?" Angelina commented.

"Yeah, that's the important part of the article," Harry rolled his eyes.

"The term romantic involvement particularly strikes me," John added. "All I said is that we're sleeping together. What's romantic about that?"

"I expect that it was Harry's actions that gave you away," Hermione responded, sighing as she tossed the Daily Prophet away. "This could be a problem."

Harry took a seat and John watched him. "It could be," Harry admitted. He glanced at Hermione and then the other girls. "Is this going to affect public opinion of me?"

Katie looked uncomfortable. "It might. I mean homosexuality isn't exactly accepted in the wizarding world. Not to mention that John is You-Know-Who's son and people are beginning to lose faith anyway."

"In Harry?" Hermione asked.

"In anything really. People are ready to accept You-Know-Who's hold if it means staying on his good side, living."

"Pathetic," John sneered. "Hiding? Bowing down? They're a bunch of cowards. Why do you fight so hard for them?" John looked at Harry as he said this.

Harry looked at his hands. "Because it's the right thing to do," he said softly.

"Personally, I'd just like to see my father dead," John shrugged, slowly sitting next to Harry. He absentmindedly put a hand to the Dark Mark.

Harry nodded. "That, too." He glanced at John, who met his eyes. Hermione felt like she was interrupting something. She and Harry had grown closer than ever the month while Harry was avoiding John. They had spoken about Ron, the war, and absolutely nothing of John. And now, it was just John and Harry. Yes, she may have partially been avoiding Harry but he had made no move to speak to her. As much as she liked John, this didn't bode well.

* * *

><p>Voldemort watched his gathered Death Eaters. They avoided his gaze. Even those that had not been present during Pyro and Potter's escape had felt his wrath. The fact that he looked almost serene did not bode well, not after the rage he had displayed over the last week. No one had seen Lucius Malfoy since the night of the escape.<p>

For the first time in a week, Bellatrix Lestrange sat with the group at the table. She had been severely incapacitated by Pyro's attack and she was only now healed from his burns though her skin still seemed rather pink.

Voldemort spoke into the silence. "Tell me, how have people reacted to the revelation of my son's relationship with Potter?"

"You will find that many have stopped putting their hope in Potter," one Death Eater responded. "Those that had held out seem shocked at the news."

"Shocked enough to lose all faith in him?" Voldemort questioned.

"Not yet," Severus spoke. "I do not know of the wizarding world in general but many students who know Potter are as loyal as ever."

Voldemort looked at him curiously. "Have you met with much resistance from the students?"

"A few Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs but most keep their noses clean," Severus leaned back in his chair. "But their thoughts reveal that when the time comes, many will fight by Potter's side."

"This is despite his unnatural relationship with my son?"

"It has affected many opinions," Severus admitted. "But those that know him have taken the report with a grain of salt."

"Do they doubt it?" Lestange asked.

Severus shook his head. "No. Surprisingly Potter's pet Weasley has been confirming it, showing tactical brains far beyond what I thought him capable of," he sneered.

"How is that tactical?"Avery asked.

"Because," Voldemort spoke softly. "He is communicating that it is irrelevant. That Potter is still Harry Potter." He turned to Severus. "And what of Minerva McGonagall and the Order?"

"Minerva has had no contact with the Order," Severus responded. "But it appears that she knew of their relationship. I believe it was not kept a secret. Unfortunately we know then that the Order still stands beside Potter as much as they did during the Battle of Hogsmeade."

Voldemort's eyes grew cold. Though they had successfully distracted the Order, he was not happy the Order had previous knowledge of the attack on Hogsmeade. It appeared that they had somehow gotten a hold of their wayward Wormtail. Or had Potter gotten into his mind again?

Those that escaped the battle shrank into their seats. Even with their numbers concentrated on Hogwarts, the Death Eaters had outnumbered Potter's Order. Yet they were defeated. The Dark Lord had been unforgiving of their defeat. The survivors were relieved when he turned back to Severus.

"What of the wards around Hogwarts?" Voldemort asked.

Severus kept eye contact with his master. It was something Voldemort respected in him. Though he showed fear of and respect for Voldemort, Severus had enough of a backbone to stand unquivering before him.

"I have been unable to sway their loyalty," Severus admitted. "What I have ascertained from various portraits, shortly before term started Minerva and the werewolf brought Potter and Pyro to Hogwarts. They adjusted the wards. It seems that, despite his impure blood, Hogwarts recognized Pyro as the heir of Slytherin."

"But Potter?" Bellatrix asked. "He is not one of the heirs."

But Voldemort had frozen ever so slightly. He and Severus looked at each other. "It appears that Dumbledore found the lost heir," Voldemort said quietly.

"What heir?" a Death Eater asked.

"The prophecy?" Bellatrix asked shocked. "The heir of Gryffindor? Potter?"

"A mere boy," Voldemort smiled. "Destined to defeat me? To lead the world into the light or leave it in darkness? It means nothing. The boy will fail." Many of the Death Eaters kept their eyes down. "Do you doubt me, my friends? You think that his survival speaks of great power. He has been lucky and I have been careless. Potter has not the power, brains, or ruthlessness needed to win this war. When the time comes, he will come to me and he will die."

A crazed look appeared in Bellatrix's eyes. "And your son?" she asked. Severus eyed her carefully. It appeared as if Bellatrix had developed a new obsession.

"St. John will see his lover die. He will bow down before me before he meets his death," Voldemort promised.

Bellatrix smiled and Severus watched her carefully, expression blank.

* * *

><p>"Good, Harry," Remus said as Harry perfectly animated a chair and multiplied it. "That can serve as a good distraction in a fight."<p>

Harry nodded, ending the animation spell.

"I haven't seen you much the last week," Remus said lightly.

Harry shrugged. "Been thinking things out. Figuring out my next move."

"Our next move," Remus corrected taking a seat. As much as he didn't want to spend any more time than necessary in the basement, this was the first time he had seen Harry without John in a week.

"No," Harry said. "Mine."

Remus sighed. "Doing things by yourself again."

"Not by myself."

"What, Harry?" Remus asked frustrated. "You've decided that John is your only ally?"

"Not only," Harry said evenly. "Closest. Are we done?"

"Why this sudden turn around? I thought you were finally settling into the Order." This was what Remus didn't understand.

"John and I in the Ministry. Going into Malfoy Manor. Those were the only successful missions I can even remember these days. There was no Order there," Harry said intensely. He took a step away from Remus. "And how can I trust people who distrust the person I trust the most?"

Remus ran his hand over his eyes tiredly. "Harry. Hermione, me, Tonks, even some of your DA trust John."

"And they were willing to let him die."

"I told you we would've—"

"Remus you would've sacrificed him. You let them take him. You didn't fight," Harry said angrily, turning abruptly to face him. So they were finally getting to what Harry really felt about that night.

"What were we supposed to do?" Remus asked, also raising his voice.

"Fight," Harry practically hissed. "Do what I would've. For anyone."

"Well, Harry, it's time to grow up," Remus snapped. "You have responsibilities to the wizarding world. Your death leads to a lot of deaths and if you don't lead you leave us in darkness."

Harry glared. "Grow up? I've been taking care of myself all my life. Don't tell me to grow up. Not when you treat me like a child. And lead? How can I lead people who can't decide whether I'm a child or some pre-destined, all powerful savior? Deal with it. I don't know how to do that."

Harry didn't wait for Remus to respond, storming off. Remus had thought Harry ready to lead. He never expected that Harry would pull away from the Order but over the last week that was exactly what he had been doing. And now? Harry had basically announced his lack of faith in the Order. By failing to fight for John, Remus had practically lost Harry. The Order had practically lost him. He closed his eyes. They would fail without Harry. Harry could not go it alone. He would leave the wizarding world in darkness.

But Remus had to keep faith, faith in not Harry Potter but in Harry, Lily and James' son, the extraordinary boy who mastered the patronus at thirteen and had taken up a fallen leader's role in the middle of a battle. A battle that they had won. It was only because of Hogwart's fall that they had needed to evacuate Hogsmeade at all. Remus would keep his faith in Harry. He would wait.

* * *

><p>John looked up from his bandages as Harry entered their room, slamming the door behind him. His jaw was tense and his green eyes were dark. John returned to re-bandaging his side.<p>

"I'll do that," Harry said, softer than John expected. John let go of the bandages as Harry grabbed them. He inspected John's side before bandaging it slowly. "You seem to be healing fine. Can't say I'm familiar with stitches, though"

John watched him carefully. "Yeah, it's healing." Harry smoothed the bandages down. "What's up?"

"Nothing," Harry said moving away and grabbing one of John's books. He threw himself into the bed, flipping the book open.

"You don't read," John said also climbing on the bed. Sitting upright, he faced Harry.

Harry rolled his eyes but didn't look up. "I read."

"Not my books," John pointed out. "_Catcher in the Rye_?" Harry shrugged. "What happened?"

"I just got into a fight with Remus." Harry paused but John just stared at him. "I told him I didn't trust the Order. He told me to grow up. Other words were exchanged."

"He told you to grow up?" John asked, eyebrows raised. That didn't sound like Remus but maybe he was frustrated. Harry wasn't leading the Order like Remus wanted. He couldn't lead those people. He couldn't pretend to be the myth people thought him to be. And John would never want him to. The DA on the other hand simply seemed to follow, whether Harry actively declared himself leader or not.

"Can we just…" Harry closed his book. "Can we pretend that there's no war? I'm tired." Of everything, John suspected.

He hated this. Hated that Harry had so much resting on him. "Can't you just not fight?" John finally asked. Harry looked at him as if he was crazy. John knew it was crazy to ask so maybe he was. "I told you that I could disappear and that my father would never find me. We can both go. Never be found."

Harry closed his eyes. When he opened them, John didn't like what he saw. Resignation. Exhaustion. Pain. "I can't do that, Johnny," he said quietly. "I can't leave everyone to fight without me. And I can't let the man who ruined my life get away with it."

John nodded though it pained him. If it was just about revenge, John would never even have thought about bringing up quitting (even if he knew it was a useless suggestion). But Harry could live without revenge. It wasn't what was really driving him. Harry felt responsible. Albus Dumbledore had convinced Harry that this was his weight to bear. And John hated that man in that moment.

"And I can't just let innocent people die," Harry continued. "Voldemort will kill or enslave the muggles if he wins."

"So?" John said standing. He didn't get Harry's loyalty to the muggles. Muggles were worthless. They were the enemy and even if John didn't particularly want to kill or enslave them, why should he fight to save them? The only people that had ever shown John even an ounce of kindness were either mutants or wizards. "The muggles aren't worth your energy."

Harry studied him before sighing. "They don't deserve to die."

"They don't deserve to be saved," John argued back, pulling out his lighter and viciously flicking it. "Tell me, Harry. Did anyone, teachers or neighbors, notice what your family did to you? Or did they notice and not give a fuck?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. It wasn't like I was abused anyway."

John shook his head at the answer. "Yeah, locking a child in a cupboard isn't abuse." He met Harry's eyes. "If I ever meet those relatives of yours, I _will_ kill them. And I won't feel a bit of regret over it."

Harry only looked at him. "You wouldn't."

John laughed. "You think I'm a good guy. I'm not. The only reason I don't kill muggles is that I don't see the point. It won't do anything. Every time Magneto launches an attack, it makes things worse. It's the X-Men that have to fix it."

"The mutant terrorist?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, the terrorist," he said sarcastically. John didn't truly view Magneto or his Brotherhood as terrorists. They were soldiers fighting a war. But their fighting did nothing. At least not yet. The moment Magneto's fight seemed like it could actually do something was the moment John would join them.

In the two years since Stryker's men invaded the mansion and Stryker used Xavier and Cerebro in an attempt to eradicate mutants, John often laid awake at night wondering what things would've been like if he had somehow followed Magneto off the jet. In the Brotherhood, John would actually be fighting for something he believed in. He couldn't care less about what happened to his fellow mutants (except Bobby, or even Scott or Xavier) but he would never be the victim. Not again. He rather be the victimizer then ever suffer under a human's hands ever again. If it came down to a war between mutants and humans, John would fight, not for peace but for victory. Magneto was right; John was a god and humans just insects. As long as they did no harm to him he wouldn't torch them. But if stung…John decided to let Harry know the man he really was.

"I thought about joining that terrorist," he said, keeping his eyes glued to Harry. He needed to know this. "But I didn't see the point in putting my life on the line if it wouldn't actually do anything."

"Magneto tried to eradicate every single muggle from this earth," Harry said slowly. "We're not talking just adults. We're talking children."

John had thought of that too. He told himself he didn't care even if he knew that was lying. But if pushed, John knew that he would never be able to kill a child or stand aside and watch it happen. It was a weakness. "Muggle children grow up to be those adults."

Harry shook his head. "But no one can know that. Things get better. Look at wizards. Even a century ago all wizards thought muggleborns inferior. Now most know that's not true. Public sentiment changes from generation to generation."

"We won't be alive a century from now," John argued. "What does it matter if it doesn't affect us." Harry wasn't getting it. John was a selfish bastard. He fought this war for two reasons: his hatred for his father and for Harry. Even his hatred for his father stemmed from what the man had done to Harry.

Harry only shook his head again. "I think you only think you believe that. There is something more holding you back from joining Magneto. You're not sure what you believe. I think when you stop being so angry you'll realize that the X-Men have it right. Not every 'human' is the enemy."

"I haven't met any that haven't acted that way," John said, violently flicking his lighter. Harry didn't get it, he told himself.

Harry smiled though it seemed sad. "You've met the worst of human kind. After this war, we'll both go find the good."

"If we both live," John sighed, not looking at Harry. He really doubted that this war was going to end happily for them. Harry would die because he was a self-sacrificing idiot.

"You don't know how to not survive," Harry said, shifting slightly as if considering going to John.

"Can't say the same for you," John said, glaring at Harry. It was Harry's own fault that he was going to end up dead.

Harry grinned though it was forced. "Been doing okay so far." Harry tossed the book away from him finally.

"Then I'm asking again," John said, challenge in his voice. "Promise me you'll do everything you can to survive this war."

Harry studied him. "Okay," he said. "I promise." But John was unconvinced. "I'll do anything I can to survive this war." John turned away from him. That's something Harry could never actually promise and mean it. "Look, John, I finally get it. I die and we lose. I won't just sit back and watch people die if I can help it. But I'll fight to survive every damn minute."

John turned to Harry, moving closer to the bed. He sounded sincere and John just wanted to believe it was true. "You mean it?" he asked doubtfully. "If my father tells you he'll stand back if you give yourself up, you won't go to him?"

Harry's eyes were serious. "I won't. Not only because I'm promising you but because I know Voldemort would never keep that promise." Finally Harry was thinking like Voldemort. He had to know that nothing Voldemort said could be trusted. It was all a game. Manipulation.

John sat on the edge of the bed. "Why the sudden epiphany that not everyone can be trusted by their word?"

"Maybe I've finally grown up," Harry said darkly. It was clear that despite his bravado, Harry was hurt by Remus' words. Harry stared at him before shifting towards John and pulling him into a kiss. "Plus, never mind trust. I think I can finally see a life after this war."

"What do you mean?" John asked as Harry rested his hand on the back of his neck.

"I want a chance to be happy,"' Harry said slowly. "And I want a chance to make you happy. Show you that the world isn't as bleak as you make it out to be."

John smiled. "That's going to take a lot of work." He pulled Harry into another kiss, a deeper one. Harry and John fought for control until John finally pulled away, breathless. Sometimes kissing Harry was like fighting, neither willing to give in. And it was hot as hell. John always did like fighting. Harry protested as John pulled further away.

But John only grabbed the Vicodin bottle off of the side table, popping two into his mouth. Harry grinned. "You know that'll take at least a half hour to work."

"I don't mind pain during," John said, returning his grin. "It's after that's a bitch." They kissed again but John pulled away again suddenly feeling a need to say something that he had been meaning to tell Harry. "You know you may not want to lead but you already do."

Harry groaned. "Do we really have to talk about this now? It's killing the mood."

John shrugged. "Just wanted to let you know before I lose the ability to think. Me, Hermione, your DA? We already follow you. And it's you, not the great Harry Potter. Because you're going to kill that bastard and we intend to help you."

Harry looked at him carefully. "You have a lot of confidence in me."

"And you not enough," John responded. He pulled Harry into a short kiss. "Plus, I told you before. It turns me on when you take charge. So this kind of contributes to the mood."

"Never in the bedroom though?" Harry joked.

"Occasionally in the bedroom," John corrected because, to be honest, letting Harry fuck him was beyond words.

"I can deal with that," Harry grinned, pulling John down on top of him. "Now stop talking and do something." John grinned. Despite the slight pain in his side he did as Harry ordered. Definitely enough talking.

A.N. Doesn't John seem like someone who would like _Catcher in the Rye_?


	31. Meeting the Parents

Mutant Son

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling's and Marvel's. Also part of this chapter is taken completely from DH (in italics) and a part modified. Look to pages 333-349 in the American version.

**Chapter 31: Meeting the Parents**

Hermione took a breath. This was it. It was almost Christmas, only two more days now, and she had only spoken to Harry fleetingly over the weeks. She was getting lonely. No matter how nice Angelina, Katie, and the twins were, they weren't Harry. So she decided to stop waiting for Harry to come around and make the first move.

She knocked on the door, waiting patiently for someone to answer. It took a bit longer than she expected. Could they still be sleeping? It was nearly noon. Finally the door opened revealing John, in a pair of sweats and without a shirt. His hair was tossled and he looked at her confused.

"Is Harry here?" Hermione asked, shifting awkwardly as she tried not to look at anything but his face. She really wished he was wearing a shirt. She hadn't even seen Ron without a shirt, at least not in a situation that didn't involve him being in the process of getting dressed, a few seconds at most. Not to mention the guilt she felt for finding John attractive (she had a boyfriend and John was her best friend's boyfriend) even though logically she knew it wasn't something she could control.

John said nothing, only opening the door slightly more so that Hermione could see the bed. There Harry lay sleeping soundly, apparently fully dressed under the blanket. Luckily.

"Good night," he explained.

"Oh," she said, looking back at John briefly before turning to leave. She was surprised when about halfway down the hall the door opened again and John was walking towards her, pulling on his shirt. He pulled her into the library downstairs.

"You want to fix things between you and Harry," John stated as he sat down. She stared at him. "I'm not an idiot."

"I'm not saying you are," Hermione said. "It's more a why do you care?"

John shrugged. "I like you well enough…"

"Gee thanks," Hermione said sarcastically.

"That's like a compliment coming from me," he leaned back in his chair. She guessed that was true enough. "Frankly as much as I like having all of Harry's non-war attention, even I recognize that this isn't healthy. Plus he misses you."

She was surprised that John had recognized that. There was no denying that John was selfish and possessive. But this was Harry and Harry seemed to be the exception to every rule John had. But there was something else… "He doesn't seem to miss me at all," Hermione confessed. It's what she feared most. If he didn't miss her, he didn't need her, no longer valued their friendship.

John took out his lighter. "Yeah, but you know Harry. He hides his feelings."

"Yeah, he does," Hermione agreed. She sighed. "He doesn't want to talk to me. How can I even begin to apologize?"

"You have a point. Saying I'm sorry I was going to let your boyfriend die doesn't seem too endearing." John held back a grin.

At least John didn't hold anything against her. But then again, John recognized a no win situation when he saw one. With the exception of Harry, John wouldn't die for any one of them and he didn't expect anyone else to die for him either.

"John, you know I would've gone with him," she finally said, meeting his eyes. "Yes, I let them take you but there was no chance of saving you then. And the only reason why I wasn't going to try to rescue you was because we had no way of knowing anything. I thought we would end up dying with no chance of even reaching you. If Harry had just told me he had a plan, I would've gone in. You have to know that."

"Then you're an idiot too," John said and if possible he fell back into an even more casual position. "I knew Harry and Bobby were idiots but you? I thought you had more sense than that."

Hermione offered a smile. "Well, I wasn't sorted into Gryffindor for nothing."

"What's with these houses anyway? What _is_ a Gryffindor? Besides one of the Hogwarts founders."

She sometimes forgot just how little John knew of the wizarding world. He fought a war for it without knowing who or what he was fighting for. Though she supposed the only thing John was fighting for was Harry. "In Gryffindor you'll find people that are noble and 'brave of heart'."

John shook his head. "In other words, people with more balls than brains."

"Or people that are either very brave or very stupid," Hermione added with a smile. He seemed to agree and Hermione got back to the actual topic at hand. "So what do I do with Harry?"

"Aren't you supposed to know him better than me?" John asked amused. He was enjoying this.

"Well, maybe you know this Harry better than I do. He's grown up," she said slowly. "And he's changed. He's still the Harry I've known since we were eleven but there's something else to him now." She looked at him. "Now, what do I do?"

John gently tapped his lighter against his hand, not answering for a moment. "I don't know," he admitted. She must have looked dejected. "I'll talk to him, okay?"

There was no way John could know how grateful she was. She couldn't even voice it. But John probably knew. He nodded at her and returned to his room. Hermione thought briefly that perhaps John was beginning to fight this war for something beyond Harry.

* * *

><p>Hermione really hoped that John had spoken to Harry but she hadn't seen either since John promised to do so. Now she and the other Order members were waiting on John and Harry. Eventually they became more than tardy. They weren't coming. She looked to Remus who looked resigned. He wasn't surprised.<p>

"I guess we'll start," Remus said. With a breath he began the meeting. However, Hermione couldn't focus. Why weren't they here? One of the twins (Hermione still couldn't tell them apart all the time) met her eyes questioningly but she shook her head to show she had no idea. Looking around the room, she realized none of the few D.A. members were paying attention.

When the meeting ended, Hermione was one of the first out of the room. The other D.A. members seemed to be following her. She ran into Malfoy in the hall.

"Malfoy," she called, getting his attention.

"Granger," he responded neutrally. Hermione was always surprised that he could manage to hold his hatred in for her and Harry back. At Hogwarts, he didn't seem capable. "Are you looking for your Chosen One?" Malfoy asked sarcastically.

Hermione nodded. He glanced briefly at the people behind her. "Him and Pyro are in the library," Malfoy said as he brushed past her and the others. Hermione glanced briefly at who was behind her: Fred, George, Lee, Angelina, and Katie. She didn't bother to check who was following her as she headed to the library.

When they walked in, Harry looked at them curiously. But John knew what was happening. He met her eyes. John didn't look particularly happy about it but he wasn't about to stand in her way.

Hermione met Harry's eyes. "You weren't at the Order meeting," she said accusingly.

"I'm sorry Hermione, I forgot about the Charms assignment," he responded sarcastically.

"Don't give me that, Harry Potter," she snapped. "I was just wondering when you were going to tell me about your sudden aversion to the Order."

Harry shrugged, shifting his attention temporarily from her to the other D.A. members. "I don't see why that matters," he said slowly.

"It matters," Hermione said shortly, "because I've always been by your side, not the Order's."

Harry looked surprised but she had no idea why. How could he not expect this? She liked Remus. She liked the other Order members. But she was with Harry one-hundred percent. The Order had underestimated them for years and as much as she hated the risks Harry took, she knew that those risks sometimes paid off.

"You're the one that put the effort into making sure we were ready for this war," Fred said seriously.

"Not the Order," George ordered.

"And you don't look at us like we're a bunch of teenagers who may be over our heads," Angelina added.

John hid a laugh behind his hand but his grin was rather obvious. "Hermione I get you. But you guys? You're looking to a kid younger than you to lead you?" John said as if they were crazy and he found them tremendously entertaining. Harry rolled his eyes and Hermione had to agree. John wasn't surprised but as usual he had to be difficult. He had to test them because that's what St. John Allerdyce did. He tested people until they disliked him. Needless to say, at the end of the day, almost everyone failed his tests.

"You take orders from him," Lee pointed out.

Not quite under his breath, Harry muttered, "When he feels like it."

John sent Harry an amused glance before returning his attention to the others. He shrugged. "Maybe I'm whipped." There were a couple of disbelieving snorts and the twins seemed particularly amused. Harry just shook his head.

"Well, _we_ know all the things he's done," Katie put in.

Hermione smiled. "What she means to say is that they all know his résumé. It's not just about a name." And it was true. Fred, George, Angelina, and Katie had all played Quidditch with Harry. They had all been in the same house as Harry for years and they may not have known Harry as well as Hermione, Ron, and John, but they knew enough.

"You have a résumé?" John asked lightly.

"Apparently," Harry responded. He looked uncomfortable like he usually did when people complimented him or put faith in him. "There was this thing with a basilisk," he added.

"And a dragon," Fred offered.

"Then there was that business with a bunch of soul sucking dementors, a hippogriff, and a time turner," George continued.

Hermione smiled as Harry shifted in his seat. He looked a bit guiltily at John. "It wasn't really as dangerous as all that sounds."

"Yes it was," chimed in several voices.

John just looked at Harry before turning away. He looked a bit curious but mostly serious, as if adding things together in his head. Hermione had told him that Harry tended to save the day, but he apparently hadn't quite gotten the message.

Angelina took a seat. "So what are we calling ourselves? Still the D.A? Or maybe we can go with P.A?"

"If you do, I'll kill you myself," Harry said with a straight face.

"What does D.A. mean anyway?" John asked looking between them.

"Dumbledore's Army," Harry provided.

John's jaw clenched ever so lightly. Was that a reaction against Dumbledore?

"I still like it," Harry decided. "Scrimgeour said something to me last year. He told me I was Dumbledore's man through and through. I was and still am." John stared darkly at the table in front of him. "But," Harry looked at all of them. "I'm not Dumbledore. I don't know everything and half the time I make things up as I go. And I'm not as intimidating as Dumbledore. I have to do things any way I can get things done."

"Like Pettigrew," Hermione said softly.

Harry nodded. "I hate it. I don't think any of you get just how much. But we're losing. We stun while they kill. Our numbers shrink while theirs grow. I'm not saying kill because I can't ask that of anyone. Not that. All I'm saying is incapacitate."

No one looked surprised, just resolute. This was it. The D.A. had just become a different entity than the Order. She should've known before that Harry didn't know how to answer to anyone. He had to do things his own way.

"So what are you guys not so discreetly planning?" George asked, rubbing his hands together.

"Two things," Harry said, pushing back a book. "A way to communicate with Hogwarts…"

"And how to take out Knockturn Alley in the most destructive way possible." John leaned back watching the others, waiting for a reaction.

"Sending a message?" Lee guessed.

"And getting rid of the Vanishing Cabinet and as much Dark Arts supplies as possible," Hermione realized. This was not something Dumbledore would do but it was something. Tell the Death Eaters and the wizarding world that they were still fighting.

"I vote for burning it down," John said.

"What a surprise," Hermione rolled her eyes. He lit his lighter pointedly.

"As useful as fire is," Harry started, "I think we need to show that more people than just you and me are fighting." He directed this to John.

"So we leave a calling card or something." John sat forward, resting his elbows on the table in front of him. Hermione and Harry exchanged glances. Hermione shrugged so Harry turned back to John waiting for him to continue. "Think about it. The Death Eaters are basically terrorists, right?" Harry and Hermione nodded slowly as the others observed, maybe not quite comfortable in their new positions in the war. Fred and George had just put their faith in Harry instead of their parents. "Now they're in charge and calling us terrorists. Terrorists are about making a point. It's important for them to take credit for their actions. There's no use if no one gets the message. The Death Eaters have the Dark Mark. Maybe we need something." There was an awkward silence as everyone glanced at John's arm which, for once, wasn't covered. The Dark Mark was out for everyone to see.

"We're not terrorists," Hermione said as she broke the silence. But she thought it out. "Oh."

Harry looked at her. "Want to clue the rest of us in?"

"It would let the wizarding world know without a doubt that we're fighting, not giving up," Hermione said excitedly. "And You-Know-Who won't be able to cover it up. At least not completely."

Harry looked thoughtful. "The thing is what sign would let them know it's us?"

"A lightning bolt?" John suggested with a grin. Harry glared at him and he held his hands up in mock surrender.

"A phoenix?" Katie continued. "Everyone thinks of this resistance as the Order of the Phoenix."

"But we're not," Lee interjected. "Not anymore at least."

"Does that really matter?" Hermione asked, looking at Harry. "We're both on the same side and it's guaranteed that we'll end up working with them." How easily she had slipped back to calling the Order 'them'. "Right?"

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "I just don't think I can depend on them. It doesn't mean that I don't think their fighting the right fight."

"Do you think that Remus will accept this?" Hermione asked though it had been her idea.

Harry shrugged. "It doesn't matter. He's just going to have to deal with it." He looked towards John who nodded in support. There was no questioning the hierarchy here. John was Harry's right hand man if not his second in command. But from their interaction tonight, Hermione knew that her position was at least secure. He still looked to her for support.

As they chatted about possible ways to get in touch with Hogwarts, Hermione caught Harry's eye. He sent her a small smile. Hermione could've jumped for joy as she returned the smile. She hadn't lost her best friend after all. John just watched them looking mildly pleased with himself. So he had spoken with Harry. Hermione would think of some way to thank him.

* * *

><p>When the meeting broke up John left too, leaving Hermione and Harry alone. They sat in silence, reviewing a few books on magical communication. But most of the books seemed to go into the theory of traditional forms of travel and communication like floo powder. In other words, books were completely useless for this just like with the horcruxes. Harry really didn't get Hermione's love of books. He pushed the pile away from him.<p>

"Any ideas?" he sighed. Hermione pushed her book away saying nothing. That was a no then. "Great. That's no ideas all around then. I really wish John knew magic."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, seemingly satisfied with ditching the books.

"I think John could compete with you for the smartest person I know," Harry said with a smile. She looked unhappy for a moment. If there was one thing that Hermione had confidence in it was her smarts and she didn't like when people did better than her in that department. Harry remembered Hermione's reaction to Harry's improved Potions performance last year.

"Don't worry, Hermione. Your magical knowledge and work ethic definitely gives you an edge." That one made her smile.

"He really doesn't apply himself, does he?" Hermione said.

"You know, most of the time, when I mention some magical creature he knows what I'm talking about. From myths and stuff. And the way he reads people?" Hermione and John were smart in different ways which was why he knew he could depend on them. And they both proved they were in this with him completely. He thought about his three closest allies. They were the only reason he survived as much as he did. The D.A. may be willing to follow but they were only following him into battle. Right now, it was John and Hermione who were fighting the war with him. And Ron if from afar.

"I really should stop hanging out with people smarter than me. It's bad for my confidence," Harry joked. "If anything I would at least win a game of chess every once in a while. I've got you, John, and Ron beating me all the time."

It hurt to talk about Ron. Harry really missed him. He had been prepared to figure out this war without Ron when he forced him to go back to Hogwarts but only for the most part. Harry had thought Ron would be at his side when it really counted. He still would, Harry promised himself. Because eventually they were going to win back Hogwarts. He'd see Ron then.

"What do you think he's doing right now?" Hermione asked softly.

"Ron?" She nodded. "Probably fighting back the only way he can. And he'll survive because I think I have him beat in hot-headedness. Obviously, he's also looking for the horcrux. Maybe Ginny, Luna, and Neville are helping, though they won't know what they're helping do."

"Ron's smarter than I ever give him credit for," Hermione agreed. "Sometimes he's brilliant. That's another boy who doesn't apply himself."

"But he saves all his smarts for us," Harry pointed out fondly. "He hasn't failed me yet. He even practically called me an idiot for trying to break things off with John. Ron looks out for me just as much as you do, just differently."

Hermione smiled. "Like going along with your crazy ideas to make sure you have back up."

"There's that," Harry nodded but his smile fell. He turned his eyes to a crack on the wall. A dozen scenarios ran through his head of what Ron was doing. Were the others okay? Dumbledore had said Snape was on their side, just holding his position. But Snape had done nothing for them. Maybe Snape was once on their side, on Dumbledore's side. He followed Dumbledore's last order and then joined the Death Eaters again. What reason did Snape have to fight for them? Spy or not, Harry was going to treat him like an enemy. Without a guarantee of his loyalty, Harry couldn't afford to trust. And when would Snape ever work with Harry?

Hermione sent Harry a small smile before standing. He had zoned out. "It's getting late," she announced. "I should let you get back to your boyfriend before one of you goes through withdrawal." She said this jokingly but Harry wondered if she was partially serious. It was true. He had been wishing John was there too, even if he was happy to be hanging out with Hermione again. So he said good night and headed back to his room.

John was already asleep when he got back so he just pulled off his jeans and sweater before climbing into bed. John said something indecipherable before moving closer. Harry pulled him closer and closed his eyes. Tomorrow he would deal with the war again but not now. Now he was just going to sleep.

* * *

><p>John tried not to wake Harry up as he got up, heading for the shower. He had no idea when Harry got back last night and Harry needed as much sleep as he could get. As John showered, he thought about last night's meeting. Harry had just accepted a leadership role. But surprise, surprise it wasn't the Order he would be leading. John felt definite satisfaction at that. As much as John liked Remus, he couldn't help but think that Remus deserved this.<p>

His mind turned to the D.A. He had to admit, John would rather have Harry working with them than the Order. At least these people knew Harry. That was not to say this was going to go as well as they all hoped. And he didn't just mean the Order. When it came down to it, Harry was going to keep working almost solely with John and Hermione. It wasn't about trust but something else. Something that John hadn't quite figured out. How did Harry decide which people he could depend on enough to completely include them? It was practically an exclusive club. And John had managed to work his way into the club in less than seven months. It was the Allerdyce charm. He probably should come up with a different name for that. Riddle charm? Definitely, not.

He thought about something else. John may have known that Harry did some stupid (or brave) things over the years. He even knew about the basilisk to a point. But time travel? Those creepy as hell dementors? And dragons existed? They better be dog sized or something, he thought.

He shut the water off and pulled back the curtain, almost jumping when he saw Harry at the sink. He cursed himself for not hearing Harry. John was losing his touch. He was promptly hit in the chest by a towel. Rolling his eyes, he took it. Harry still had issues with nudity when sex wasn't involved. It was really weird.

Harry seemed to have just finished shaving. "You know it's completely unfair that you guys don't have to physically shave. Just wave your wand no nicks," John said, going for his own razor.

"I could help you with that," Harry offered. "Same wave of the wand."

"No," John said grabbing his shaving cream. "One mistake and there goes my eye."

"You just don't trust me," Harry smiled. Clearly he hadn't expected John to let him. "You know you can just not shave as often. It looks like its annoying."

John turned to where Harry was sitting on a linen cabinet of some sort. He had never actually looked in it. "Would you want to kiss me without me shaving? Rough skin and all."

Harry stood to kiss him. He was apparently in a good mood this morning. "Yeah, still want to kiss you," Harry said as he pulled away.

"Fine," John decided. "Means I can be lazy so I'm in."

"Just don't get a beard," Harry warned. John agreed. He wasn't exactly a fan of beards either. His dad had had a beard. John knew he had issues when he realized a few years ago that bearded men tended to remind him of his dad. No wonder the Professor thought he needed therapy.

By the time John was out of the bathroom and completely dressed, Harry had changed and was sitting near the window, looking out and thinking, or brooding rather. When John was thinking things out or upset, he wrote. Harry stared out windows. Personally, John thought his habit was at least productive.

"What are you looking at?" John asked as he moved to sit near Harry, opening a window and lighting a cigarette. He absentmindedly smoked as he watched Harry.

Harry ignored the smoke as he usually did and just kept looking out the window. "Them." John followed Harry's gaze. All John saw were two kids having a snow ball fight. But then John realized what was going on as a man threw himself into the fray. A family. Nothing like Christmas time to remind you of what you don't have. Not that John ever wanted a family.

"Watching them is only going to make you more upset," John pointed out. "And you were in a good mood a few minutes ago."

Harry shrugged. "Comes and goes." He finally turned to look at John. "Be honest, John. Do you ever wish you had a family?"

"I have a family," John said. Harry looked at him confused. "A father who wants to kill me and a mom hopefully dead in a ditch."

"You know what I mean," Harry appeared frustrated. So this was a serious conversation. John didn't mind so much when it was about the present, even the future. He just hated talking about the past. Harry and he had mostly avoided those conversations for a reason. But now Harry was asking.

John shrugged. "I don't know," he admitted. "Most of the time no. But sometimes maybe. I mean I used to hate when Bobby went home. I disliked even the idea of his parents. But when I was at his house, I saw a family photo and I couldn't stop looking at it. They looked happy. But then I was proven right." John took a drag before putting it out. "Bobby's brother called the cops and his family watched as at least a dozen cops had their guns pointed at us. They even shot Wolverine."

Harry looked down. "Poor Bobby."

"Yeah," John agreed. He felt slightly guilty about that. Would they have abandoned Bobby if John hadn't torched those cop cars? Bobby never blamed him though. He said that his parents had never liked mutants. It didn't matter that Bobby was their son. So really, John's guilt was only temporary. "He got over it pretty quick though."

Harry shook his head. "No, he didn't," he said. "He just pretended." John stared at him. He can't believe that he hadn't seen that. But maybe that was just him being deliberately ignorant.

"You know I sometimes think about what my parents would think about me," Harry continued. John had a bad feeling about this. "Would they be proud? Would they blame me for their deaths?"

"That's stupid," John interrupted. "Your parents were good people. They knew what they were doing."

Harry smiled. "So they say. My dad was kind of a bully when he was a teenager though. Arrogant and everything."

"Does that matter?" John asked. "I'm worse than that and you love me." Harry seemed to agree.

"I also wonder what they'd think of me now though," Harry went back to looking out the window. "Like if they would think that I was careless and got people killed. Or what they'd think about what I did with Wormtail. A lot of things." Harry looked at John briefly and he was about to say something. But he stopped.

John thought he knew what it was. "What they'd think about you and me?" John offered for him.

"Yeah," Harry said quietly. "And it bothers me that I don't know. I never knew them. My only memory of them is their deaths. At least the voices and sounds."

John's stomach turned. "You remember that?"

"When dementors come near me," Harry explained, eyes fixed on the family again. "Sometimes I hear my dad tell my mother to take me and go. Then I hear my mom beg for my life. I hear the killing curse. And then there's laughing and a bright flash of green light."

Harry remembered that? It was just one more reason to make sure his own father ended up dead. "I can't say I understand," John said slowly. "I mean you were there when my father killed my other dad. He deserved it. I always thought so. And I wish my mom dead on a regular basis."

"Your angry," Harry inserted. "And you should be." He watched the family for a little longer. "I've never even seen my parents' graves."

John stared out the window at the snow. It had started snowing lightly again and the kids were ushered inside. "Then let's go," John decided. Harry turned to him. "I mean it. Fuck what the others say. No one ever thought to take you so we're going."

"What if they're watching the place?" Harry asked. John could tell that he really wanted to go, but Harry was trying to be responsible and he couldn't think of a good reason. Something to do with the war at least. But forget the war. Harry wasn't just a leader; he was a seventeen year old orphan who never actually got the opportunity to properly mourn his parents. And John may not get it but he did get that it was important.

"Then they'll go up in flames," John said simply. He could still remember the feeling the first time he killed. He had hated it. But now John had a few more deaths on his hands.

Peter Pettigrew whose death despite John's willingness and drive to do it still gave him more than a few nightmares. There were two or three from Hogsmeade. The Death Eater that had almost killed him and two others who had almost gotten to Harry and Remus. They never would have noticed them. Then there was those few Death Eaters in Malfoy Manor that had stood in their way.

Malfoy Manor really was the turning point. Before that he had felt at least some sort of remorse for what he had done, maybe not for their lives but for what he felt like he was losing every time he killed. But he had seen what the Death Eaters were capable of. They gave no mercy so he wouldn't either. His only regret now was that he hadn't finished the job with Bellatrix.

Harry looked at him closely. "One day you're going to have to stop killing for me."

"Never," John said standing. He held out his hand for Harry who looked at it speculatively before standing on his own. John rolled his eyes. He wasn't the only one who played games. "Where are we going?"

"Godric's Hollow," Harry answered.

"Are we apparating?" John asked.

Harry nodded. "I think we should let someone know we're leaving. All we need is a search party dying because of us." No one was going to stop them from going. John almost smiled as he thought about it. Harry and John together could very possibly be a better combination than Pyro and Iceman (though he suspected that he and his best friend would make better enemies).

So they ended up knocking on Hermione's door. At most she would nag them, but she would understand. They told her where they were going.

"They might expect that," was the first thing she said. She studied them briefly. "I'm going with you." They stared at her. "I won't interrupt or anything," she promised. John thought it was a good idea. She would be able to say what he couldn't. Plus he had absolutely no intention of going anywhere near those headstones.

"That defeats the purpose of us telling someone," Harry sighed, not bothering to argue. In fact, he looked partially relieved. John was a lot of things but unfortunately he couldn't quite get things that Hermione or Weasley could.

"Do we tell Remus?" Hermione asked, throwing on her shoes.

John smirked. "We tell Malfoy." The two friends looked at him. "Come on, if he has to he'll tell them where we are but he's not going to stop us."

"I don't know," Harry argued. "When we went in to rescue you he wouldn't tell me anything. Said he wasn't about to get me killed." John didn't like that at all. If Malfoy's feelings went beyond lust, he'd have to have words with him. Words which, because of how irritating the guy was, could end in a fist fight.

"Let me guess," Hermione said. "You getting killed is bad for his survival."

"Or he still thinks he can get Harry into bed," John muttered. He hadn't quite meant to be heard but Hermione sent him an odd look. And either Harry didn't hear him or he didn't take John seriously. John wouldn't be surprised if it was the second one. After all, it felt like it had taken forever to get Harry to realize that John was actually flirting/seducing him. Scrawny kid with glasses. Yeah right.

Nevertheless, they ended up at Malfoy's bedroom door. As much as John hated it, he was the best choice.

"You know, Pyro is a piss poor replacement for even Weasley," Malfoy said in greeting. No one reacted. Everyone was used to Malfoy's jabs at John by now. It seemed John was his new focus. Maybe Malfoy finally realized that picking on the person he actually wanted was a bit juvenile.

"We're going out," Harry said. "If anyone looks for us tell them we're not dead or anything."

"How would I know that?" Malfoy leaned on the door frame. "Potter you're a magnet for trouble."

"Yeah but I always get out of it," Harry said.

"As I recall, not everyone always gets out of it." That was a low blow and John almost took a step forward. But Harry beat him to it.

"You're one to speak. Getting a defenseless old man killed," Harry challenged. "Albus Dumbledore ring any bells?"

Mafoy also took a step forward. John wasn't sure whether Malfoy was upset or enjoying this. He couldn't always read Malfoy. "He was supposed to be the most powerful wizard in the world. How is that defenseless?"

"Because," Harry growled. "He was already practically dead on his feet. Fighting the good fight while you let some of your deranged friends into a school full of children."

"I didn't have a choice," Malfoy gritted out.

Harry took a step back. "You always have a choice," he told Malfoy. "We'll be a Godric's Hollow. Just do what you're told." Harry turned and left with Hermione following. John remained for a moment. Malfoy watched Harry part angry but also partly with obvious attraction.

John stepped in front of him, blocking his view. "Keep your eyes to yourself," John told him. Malfoy didn't respond, only smirked before slamming his door.

* * *

><p>The sky was overcast over Godric's Hollow. Hermione looked around. It was really a cute town. The moment they appeared in a discreet alley near the church, John nodded at the cemetery.<p>

John hung back at the gates as Harry and Hermione entered. "You coming?" Harry asked. His voice betrayed nothing but Hermione was familiar with his expression. Harry wanted John there.

But John shook his head. "I don't do cemeteries."

Harry turned away, seeming resigned but Hermione glared at John. He shrugged and Hermione turned away in disappointment. She thought he would do the right thing. It was clear why John hadn't argued about her going with them. He wanted Harry to see his parents' graves but he was relieved to let Hermione deal with the emotions.

Hermione and Harry split up, searching the cemetery. Most of the graves were overgrown with weeds. Hermione avoided graves that looked too old, but she spotted a set, well taken care of and side by side.

"Harry!" she called, heading towards the graves. Sure enough, there were the Potters' graves. Someone had been taking care of them.

She stood before the graves and silently thanked the parents who had sacrificed their lives for their son. Hermione couldn't imagine being in the wizarding world without Harry. And what would the wizarding world be without Harry Potter? But she couldn't quite find that so important as Harry joined her.

"My dad was a few months younger than my mom," Harry said softly as he read the gravestones. "No one ever told me that." But there were a lot of things no one ever told Harry. Why didn't Remus, Sirius, or even Dumbledore tell him about what he lost?

Hermione knelt in front of the graves, conjuring two bouquets and placing them in front of each grave. Harry gave her small smile and she grabbed his hand. He tensed for just a moment before squeezing it. John really should've been here, not her.

They stood there for a while before Hermione began to get somewhat uncomfortable. She felt like she was intruding. Harry sent her a questioning look as she pulled away.

"I shouldn't be the one standing here," Hermione voiced.

"He doesn't want to be here," Harry responded quietly.

"But do you want him here?" she asked. He said nothing, only looking down at his parents' graves. It wasn't exactly an answer but she knew what he wanted.

So sending him one last smile, she headed back to the cemetery gates where John was lighting and re-lighting his lighter, staring at it. Briefly, she wondered how long he had been staring at it. Even how long he could stare at it at a time. For once he wasn't clean shaven. It made him look his age.

When Hermione reached him, she crossed her arms over her chest and leveled him with her strongest glare. She knew it didn't make her look imposing but it at least made Ron and Harry uncomfortable.

John looked at her before returning his attention to his lighter. "I'm not going," he said forcefully.

"Too bad," she said, matching his tone. "You're going."

"I'd fuck it up," he said simply. Did he really think he'd mess this up? As long as he didn't say something careless, Harry would appreciate almost anything from John.

"You got him here. And it's not his friend that he wants to meet his parents. It's his boyfriend."

John scoffed. "His parents are dead. I'm not meeting anyone there."

"What are you afraid of?" Hermione asked softly, scrutinizing him. He seemed to refuse to look at her.

"I'm not afraid of anything."

"Drop that bad boy bullshit. I'm your friend," she snapped. He looked at her surprised, probably at the curse. Well, if vulgarity is what gets to John then she would use it. "Now man up and go to him."

John's eyes returned to his lighter and though he fiddled with it, he didn't flick it open. "His parents wouldn't approve of me," he said finally. Hermione lost her glare, arms relaxing slightly. He looked up and, for the second time, she saw that unsure, sad look that had gotten her to think him worthy of Harry.

Hermione took a step towards him but his eyes seemed to warn her off. "John," she said pausing. "You put people off in the beginning," she said sympathetically before smiling. "But you grow on people."

"So Bobby says," he practically mumbled.

"Well, go be there for him before I hex you." He shook his head before complying. But he didn't put the lighter away.

"Come with me," he said.

"I think it's a private moment," Hermione returned gently.

"I'm not leaving you alone here," John informed her.

"As gentlemanly as that is," Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm perfectly capable of protecting myself."

"Let's not test that," he eyed her, pulling her after him. Well, forget gentlemanly, now she was being partially manhandled. But Hermione refused to get any closer than she had to. She figured she was about out of hearing range. He let her go.

* * *

><p>John had absolutely no idea what to say so he just stood there partially behind where Harry was sitting in front of the graves. He didn't know why but Hermione's declaration of friendship had pushed him. Though he didn't acknowledge him, Harry knew he was there. John stood in silence for a few moments.<p>

"She threatened you, huh?" Harry asked not looking at him.

John squatted beside him. "A little, but you know her. She has the annoying habit of getting down to the actual issue."

Harry smiled slightly. "Like why you really cheated on me?"

John shrugged, returning the smile as he finally look at Harry. "What can I say? I have a ridiculous amount of issues. World record, really."

"What was it this time?"

"No one really wants to meet the parents," he replied, sitting down. The snow was cold. He hated cold. Well, except when he was having nightmares but that was usually because his body heated up too much. "I'm not exactly the kind of guy parents want with their kid."

"But it's only fair," Harry looked at him. "I mean I've met your father." So far not so bad, John decided. Harry was joking. John hadn't messed anything up yet.

"I don't think it's comparable. You met him before me," John quipped.

Harry shook his head with a small smile. "You're impossible."

"Like talking to a brick wall."

"I think the wall would actually be more cooperative." Harry returned to looking at the gravestones. John couldn't quite get the fascination. Harry's parents weren't here. Bodies couldn't talk. Especially six feet under. But John had a feeling he shouldn't say that.

"You're the one who suggested visiting their graves," Harry pointed out. John looked surprised. "Come on, I might not be as good at reading people as you but I catch on every once in a while."

John nodded. He'd play along. "So are you going to introduce me or something?" he asked.

"Even I don't get the use of that."

"I hear it's therapeutic," John shrugged. "At least that's what Bobby told me when he went to his grandmother's funeral."

"Bobby's usually right, I guess," Harry admitted. "I should drag Bobby around with me, you know. People would stop calling me the Golden Boy if they met him."

John smiled, privately agreeing. Besides the whole unrequited attraction thing, there was a reason John never completely fell for Bobby (John could admit to a crush). He tried but they never quite got each other. And there was always a tension there because of their conflicting personalities. Harry, though, while they didn't always get each other, they at least got some things. And even if their few fights had been crazy, they didn't argue every two minutes like John and Bobby.

And John thought he was getting something here. It was all or nothing. "So hey Lily and James, I would call you by your last names I guess but you're like two years older than me," John started and Harry smiled as he watched. "I'm St. John Allerdyce, you know the son of the dude that killed you." Harry looked exasperated. "Anyway I'm sort of involved with your son. Recruited him to my team and all. Hope you don't mind but if you do it wouldn't exactly stop me." John took a breath as Harry watched him. He felt ridiculous but at the same he just kept on going. "What I'm trying to say is I love him and I may not be what anyone would want for their kid but I'd do anything for him. Even sit here and make a complete fool out of myself."

Harry actually laughed at that one. "You're such an idiot."

"Your mother wants you to mind your manners," John said, faking a disappointed look.

"I swear he's not always an asshole," Harry said to their graves before standing. "I guess, well… thanks," he said awkwardly to the graves. He was about to walk away but John stopped him as he spotted a dark figure near the church.

Harry followed his gaze, quickly going for his wand. "Hermione," he breathed looking towards the gates. He let out a relieved breath as he spotted her not so far behind them. As they met up, the figure began to walk towards them before stopping about halfway. Hermione's eyes landed on the figure.

"It's an old woman," she said quietly. "I've been watching her."

"Could've warned us," John said sharply.

"I would've if it became a problem," she returned. They were both surprised when Harry began to walk towards the woman.

"Hey," John grabbed him. "Where do you think you're going?"

"They wouldn't send just one," Harry replied before shaking him off. "Stay back."

"Like hell," John glared.

"Fine," Harry responded, eyes remaining on the figure. "Hermione…"

"No."

"I don't care," Harry said sending her a look. "Think about it this way. You can keep a better eye out for others."

She glared at him. "You're doing it again." But nonetheless she complied. Harry and John headed towards the figure.

"You know you have absolutely no sense of self-preservation," John sighed as he flicked his lighter open. John got a better look at the woman as they approached. She was one creepy looking old lady. Her eyes were partially glazed over and her skin was overly saggy. He really hoped he died before he reached that stage of disgusting.

The old lady looked between them when they stopped, eying John's lighter and Harry's wand. "I thought you would come eventually, Potter" she said, then turning towards John, "Pyro." Even her voice was creepy.

"Who are you?" Harry asked.

"Bathilda Bagshot," she whispered.

"Who—"

"You wrote that Hogwarts history book," John interrupted. Harry really didn't quite pay attention to what he read.

Her eyes met his. "Yes. Come." She looked past them before turning. So they followed her, careful to stay a safe distance behind her. Hermione caught up to them.

"Who is she?"she hissed.

"Bathilda Bagshot," Harry responded.

"Really?" Hermione asked, excited despite herself.

"This really isn't the time to talk history," Harry said and though his voice suggested sarcasm, he didn't tear his eyes from the woman. Apparently Harry had some self-preservation instinct after all, at least a little.

"Harry," Hermione whispered, stopping. He turned to look at her but John kept his eyes glued on the woman. One of them had to be aware.

"John, stop," Harry breathed. "It's the house. It's still here."

Despite himself, John looked. There stood a house, mostly overgrown with ivy. A top corner of the house was blown apart. Why was it still there? It was almost completely destroyed. Harry had survived that? Forget the killing curse, the room's collapse should've killed him.

And in front of the house stood a memorial plaque, clear despite the plant growth.

_On this spot, on the night of 31 October 1981,_

_Lily and James lost their lives._

_Their son, Harry, remains the only wizard_

_Ever to so have survived the Killing Curse._

_This house, invisible to Muggles, has been left_

_In its ruined state as a monument to the Potters_

_And as a reminder of the violence_

_That tore apart their family._

It was at least tasteful, respectful towards both Harry and his parents. There was no mention of Harry as the boy-who-lived. Looking closer, John saw initials and names engraved into the wood and written in ink. Some even left messages.

_Good luck, Harry, wherever you are._

_If you read this, Harry, we're all behind you._

_Long live Harry Potter._

So the wizarding world hadn't given up hope. Though John glared at the last message, even he appreciated most of the other messages.

"_They shouldn't have written on the sign!" said Hermione, indignant._

_But Harry beamed at her._

"_It's brilliant. I'm glad they did. I…"_

It was exactly what Harry needed. To know that people weren't disappointed in him, that he hadn't failed them. Because, to Harry, everything was on his shoulders. Any failure was his failure. Again John cursed Albus Dumbledore.

He jumped. Bathilda had snuck up on them. She beckoned. Why didn't she speak now? They followed, again keeping a safe distance. She appeared to be a frail woman and though that seemed to reassure Harry, John knew that meant nothing. He had been a scrawny little boy for a long time, finally hitting a growth spurt at sixteen. But he had done real damage as that scrawny kid. Arson, killing, torture (forced as it was) and that was only after he got his mutation. John was a scrappy fighter even back then.

When they got back to her house, Bathilda's entire focus was on Harry. It made John nervous. She had stopped speaking since Hermione had joined them. Was she prejudiced against muggleborns? What else could it be?

The house was in disarray, unsanitary really. Was it an old person thing? But it was a familiar smell and John had never really been around old people.

John watched as Bathilda tried to get Harry to follow. John stayed close behind Harry but the woman paused, staring at him.

"She wants you guys to stay," Harry said quietly. John didn't like the look in his eyes.

"Harry, no," John and Hermione said, practically in unison.

He didn't look at them. "Guys I can physically overpower an old woman."

"And magic?" John asked.

Harry briefly glanced at John. "It's good that I'm so powerful then." Harry didn't believe that so John didn't budge. He didn't appreciate being misquoted like that. "I've fended off Voldemort, I can fend off an old lady. Whatever she has to tell me, I need to know."

Exchanging looks with Hermione, they both stepped back. "You have five minutes," John told him. But his hand closed tightly around his lighter. It didn't take five minutes to kill someone.

Hermione and John looked around the room as they waited for Harry. John kept his ears focused for any noise coming from upstairs.

"There are photos of a young Dumbledore," Hermione said, brushing off the dust from one.

John looked at it for a moment. "I wonder if he was a manipulative bastard even then." Hermione swallowed, avoiding his eyes. "You know what I'm talking about. That man manipulated Harry from the beginning. He shaped him into the hero he needed Harry to be."

Hermione shook his head. "No, I don't believe that. And don't look at me like that. Dumbledore did a lot of things. I can't lie, some of them were questionable. But Harry was like that from the beginning. He saved my life two months into school. Not even a month in, he climbed onto a broom even though he had never flown before just to get back something Malfoy had stolen from Neville. Harry Potter was always going to be Harry Potter."

John didn't want to agree. He wanted to stay angry at Dumbledore so he stepped away and passed the stairs. Hermione followed.

"Whatever that smell is, it's stronger here," Hermione commented. John sniffed and she made a face at him. It was stronger. And he knew that smell…suddenly he launched himself up the stairs.

"Blood," he said as he practically flew up the stairs. John was almost up the stairs when he heard some sort of commotion. He heard Harry attempt to summon his wand. Fuck, Harry was disarmed. The smell hit him harder as he threw himself into the hall, fire at the ready. The first thing he saw was an open door revealing a bloody, decomposing body. But the sounds of a struggle were in the next room so he ignored his revulsion.

Harry was struggling with a giant snake, Nagini, John remembered. He was barely holding her off. John froze for a moment.

"What are you doing?" Hermione screamed at him.

"I hit the snake, I hit Harry, too." Hermione ignored his warning, sending out a spell. It missed, shattering the window behind Harry and the snake. The glass hit Harry. "Stop!" he shouted. John made his move as he spotted Harry's wand. He grabbed it and threw it towards Harry, shouting his name.

It wasn't going to make it, but suddenly it was in Harry's hand. Harry sent out a blasting curse and the snake went flying. John rushed to Harry, letting Hermione deal with the snake. But she only distracted it. John grabbed Harry and Hermione dove for them. Before they disapparated, he attempted to light Nagini on fire, missing her by inches as she lunged.

They arrived back in the headquarters living room, John quickly getting Harry to the couch. Harry wasn't quite passed out. It was as if he was getting a vision but without the previous pain. John really couldn't take this another time. Harry really was unconscious way too much.

John didn't move away from him as Hermione took a step back from the couch. She was talking to someone. John was really going to let Harry have it. He told John that he could take care of himself and failed pretty badly. He could've gotten himself killed.

"I knew trouble would find him," Malfoy said from behind him. Someone tried to push John away. He glanced up enough to see Mrs. Malfoy wand in hand.

"Stop," he told her. "It's a vision. Give him time." It was only a few moments more before Harry opened his eyes. He sat up, gasping for breath.

"I saw it," Harry said. "I saw my parents die."

A.N. Because of Pyro's limited appearances in the movies, I obviously have to make a lot up. But I try to at least form everything from whatever building blocks I have. That being said, I probably have made up just how smart he is but I figured good writers at least have a bit of an edge. And they all read a lot. So hopefully I'm not stretching too far. Also X2 reference, which FX played on Saturday. Again. For once I actually have proof of my characterization involving John's feelings about family. Anyone remember how he stared at Bobby's family portrait in X2? And anyone notice the attention John focused on Bobby's brother, like he was reading him? And then he laughs when Ronnie gets freaked out. Yay for getting his character right!


	32. Fighting Makes the Bond Grow Stronger

_Mutant Son_

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling's and Marvel's. Short quote from DH Part 2 movie. In italics again.

A.N. Thank you for all the reviews. I'm glad people are still following even though the story has slowed down a lot and perhaps not all of these scenes need to be here, but I love portraying interactions. To answer a question, the deathly hollows don't exist in my little AU because honestly, I didn't know how to work them in. As for seeing his parents die, Harry sees it in DH as well. Also getting as close to a sex scene as I am capable of, which is not much. Limited foreplay really.

**Chapter 32: Fighting Makes the Bond Grow Stronger**

Harry couldn't sleep. Every time he closed his eyes he saw everything again. Somehow, his mind had connected to Nagini's and for the first time he actually saw his parents' deaths. What did it mean? Why did he connect to Nagini's mind? Was she there the night his parents died? Or did her mind connect to Voldemort's as well? So many questions but no one to ask let alone answer.

After seeing his dad meet Voldemort wandless for the third time in his sleep, Harry gave up. He didn't have the energy to go far so he headed straight to the bathroom, closing the door, hoping not to wake John up. John hadn't seen what he had seen and even if he had, John wouldn't understand his nightmares. He had showed no sympathy when Harry told him that he had seen his parents die, instead glaring at him as Mrs. Malfoy performed a few healing spells for the cuts and bruises. Then John had verbally attacked him, turning all of Harry's words against him. John was too focused on Harry almost being crushed by a snake and not enough on the traumatic event Harry had suffered in his own head.

Harry ran the water, setting it for the hottest temperature he could stand. Too tired to undress, he sat fully clothed in the bathtub, letting the shower burn at his skin. Harry hadn't done this since the summer. Since John whose skin burnt just hot enough. He closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall and resting his forearms on his knees. He thought of flying.

"Having fun?"

Harry opened his eyes to see a half-awake John standing in the doorway. "Go back to sleep," Harry told him, closing his eyes again. But John turned the water off instead. And Lee had said John took orders from him?

Opening his eyes, Harry only looked at John.

John was watching him, back to leaning on the doorway, arms loosely crossed over his chest. "Are you getting out?" he asked.

"No," Harry refused, knowing he sounded childish. Well, too bad. Harry just witnessed his parents' deaths; he would behave like a child if he wanted to.

Sighing, John sat on the edge of the tub, running a pushing his hair out of his face. "You gonna say anything?" John continued.

"No."

"Do anything?"

"No."

Silence. John just sat there, tapping his thumb on his thigh. Harry thought he could hear some sort of beat. The dripping of the shower seemed to fit. John sighed again.

"You know," Harry decided to speak, watching John get increasingly more fidgety. Harry would have suggested that John go back to sleep again but John was stubborn. He'd just stay there until he couldn't sit still any longer. Then he would stand and pace. And that would give Harry anxiety just watching. "I wasn't exactly wrong." John looked at him, waiting for Harry to continue. He at least stopped bouncing his leg up and down. "I _could've_ taken that old lady—"

"I think the fact that I had to save your ass says differently," John challenged. So that was still bothering him. Well, at least Harry had never gotten himself kidnapped and tortured. The Triwizard Tournament didn't count because it involved a disguised portkey. And he hadn't even known John then.

"From a snake," Harry asserted. "A very large snake."

John stared at him. "Is that supposed to make me feel any better?"

Harry glared. John didn't get it, wasn't even trying. "Do you really think I care about what you feel right now?" He turned away from John's surprised look. In a moment John would replace it with anger. "At the cemetery you really seemed to get it. But now you don't get it at all."

"Your parents?" John asked, confused. Apparently, he hadn't reached angry yet.

"Yeah, my parents," Harry said coldly. "You want to know why I can't sleep? It's because I keep seeing it over and over again. My dad didn't even fight. He put down his wand to play with me and met Voldemort without a wand. He just died. And then I saw my mom throw herself between me and Voldemort, then her lifeless eyes. How can dealing with that even compare to what you're feeling right now?"

"You think I don't know that," John said as his hand reached absentmindedly towards his pocket. Harry couldn't read his tone. "But what do you want me to do? Say I'm sorry? What would that do?"

"It doesn't have to do anything," Harry turned his head to look at John. "Just tell me everything will be okay. That I won't have to see that happen again to people I care about."

"Everything won't be okay," John said simply. "And people you care about are going to die."

Harry shook his head in disbelief. "That was exactly what I needed to hear. Thanks. Now maybe I'll see Ron lying there dead the next time I try to sleep."

"What do you want from me?" John asked tiredly. "I can't do what you're asking me."

"What am I asking from you?"

"To reassure you. Tell you lies so you can sleep at night," John stood. "Because at the end of the day you need to be prepared. People are going to die. Not just strangers or even people you know. People you care about are going to die."

"You keep me from killing to protect me but you want me to turn a cold eye on my friends dying?" Harry returned. "That'll weigh on me a whole lot more than killing a woman like Bellatrix Lestrange. You don't get to pick and choose what you want to protect me from. So I think the question is: what do _you_ want? "

John looked away for a moment, jaw tense. When he spoke, his eyes returned to Harry and his voice was sharp. "I want you to stop blaming yourself for people dying. I want you to survive this war, not only alive but whole. And I want to pretend that that's not asking too much."

Some of the anger left Harry. John loved him. Harry had known that but now he was seeing what that really meant and Harry didn't just mean the risk to John's life. John loved someone who was the number one target of the most powerful dark lord in centuries. He loved someone thrust into the middle of a war not at all prepared. He loved someone who half the time couldn't think beyond the war, who put on all responsibility on his own shoulders. John loved Harry who may not have had as many psychological issues as him, but had enough self imposed baggage to weigh both of them down. Most of all, John loved someone who would probably die in the war, no matter how hard he fought.

So Harry sighed. "I'm not apologizing," he said.

"Yeah, I'm not either." Nothing had been resolved but at least the anger was gone.

Harry stood, looking down at himself as he dripped water down into the tub. John rolled his eyes, tossing him a towel and grabbing some clothes from the nearest relatively clean pile. Harry dried himself off and got dressed as John went back to bed. He pulled on the shirt. The sleeves were too big and holes were cut enough for his thumbs to fit through. John's shirt. They didn't usually wear each other's clothes but Harry was warm and comfortable. He climbed back into bed, knowing he wouldn't be sleeping but figuring a warm bed was better than being wet in a chilly house.

"Hey, Harry." Harry turned his head to look at John. "Merry Christmas," he said, but Harry didn't think that was what he really meant to say. John completely disregarded the holiday.

Harry smiled slightly. "This isn't a very promising start." John shrugged, playing with the hem of Harry's shirt. He paused and studied it for a moment before looking at Harry.

"You're wearing my shirt," he stated.

"You gave it to me," Harry returned. John didn't say anything else. They laid there for a few moments, not touching, a clear space between them. A space that usually didn't exist. John turned over, facing away from Harry who returned to his favorite hobby of staring at the ceiling. Well his second favorite. He liked windows better.

Then something hit him. Something that would've revealed Bathilda Bagshot to really have been a disguised Nagini. He laughed. John turned back over and just looked at him. Harry imagined that John was wondering if he had lost it.

"I'm an idiot," Harry explained.

"Not exactly news," John said without missing a beat.

"I know how to recognize parseltongue," Harry kept going as if John hadn't spoken. "And I just spoke to her thinking we were speaking English. She never even spoke when Hermione was there. I mean…" Harry trailed off, realizing something. He sat up and just stared at John.

John looked confused, maybe from Harry's words or his sudden movement. He sat up as well though more slowly, studying Harry as Harry looked straight forward. "You understood her," Harry almost whispered. "Spoke to her."

"What—"

But Harry suddenly turned back around. John's hand instinctively went for his lighter. Harry froze as John's hand paused over the lighter. John seemed to realize what he was doing and brought his hand back to his side. But Harry ignored the fact that John had just moved to protect himself from him.

"Nagini," Harry said slowly. "We were speaking parseltongue with her. The language of snakes," he explained at John's blank look. "John, you were speaking to a snake. You were speaking another language."

John furrowed his eyebrows as if trying to remember doing so. "Parseltongue," he said finally. "Where do I know that word from?"

Of course. John had been reading books on the Hogwarts founders earlier in the year. "It was the one trait Salazar Slytherin was solely known for. What the Slytherin line is known for." Harry swallowed, watching as John took it in. "It's a magical trait."

"That doesn't make sense, I can't do magic," John looked thoughtful. It was true. John would've displayed some sort of accidental magic if he was able to. And they had discovered in practice that healing charms did nothing for him. Yet wards recognized his blood. He could see past muggle repelling charms. And now…now he could talk to snakes.

"Well, you really make little sense to anyone but you or Bobby," Harry said lightly. "You're just racking up points in that department." He was tired of serious.

John's face dropped its serious expression, slipping into an amused one. "You mean I don't make sense to you?" he asked in that tone Harry took as a John-form of teasingly.

"Half the time," Harry decided.

"Might explain why our relationship has more mood swings than a bi-polar pregnant woman," John quipped in his infuriatingly carefree manner. The manner that both secured his bad boy image and irritated almost everyone that met him. The manner which Harry found both funny and attractive at the same time, actually.

Harry tried not to laugh. "Don't tell that one to Tonks," he warned. "Or Hermione."

"Hermione got herself knocked up?" John feigned curiosity. Harry failed to hold back this time and grinned shaking his head. At John's responding grin, he realized what John was doing. Fighting for a smile from him.

"You know what I mean," Harry said, still smiling. He lay back down, shifting closer to John. He felt John relax as he slid back down, facing Harry and throwing an arm over his waist. Harry listened to John breathe for a few moments.

"Are we going to just ignore the fact that I'm a freak of nature?" John asked lightly.

"We can keep it to ourselves for now," Harry said, thinking about how others would react. Though they were no longer part of the Order, they all would be working together. Many still didn't trust John, only seeing his parentage and the Dark Mark branded on John's skin. They didn't need to add parseltongue, the language of dark wizards to the equation.

Harry felt more than saw John nod. Did this count as taking an order? But this was their bedroom, the one place Harry could drop any pretenses, and Harry wasn't going to be Harry Potter right now. But that left a seventeen year old with issues.

"Can we also ignore everything we just fought about?" Harry asked, titling his head enough that he could see John's eyes which were already focused on him. "Like me almost getting killed. And you being, well, you."

John seemed to think about it. "Today ended with me acing meeting the parents."

Harry didn't answer for a moment, deciding instead to get more comfortable and if that brought him closer to John so be it. John really was one of a kind. The cocky bad boy, the damaged kid, the soldier, the loose cannon, the caring boyfriend (admittedly in his own way) all at the same time. But it wasn't different personalities like John claimed Harry had. All of those things just made up John's personality. And somehow both Harry and John's personalities clicked.

They argued sometimes. They knew how to hurt each other. But Harry figured it said something that they held back their punches. And if it took deliberately forgetting what they fought about to keep things working, then Harry was all for it.

Before he finally dozed off, he whispered, "Merry Christmas, Johnny."

Harry couldn't say that he slept well for those few hours. Nightmares flew threw his head, some just momentary pictures: Ron's dead body, Sirius falling through the veil, his parents dying over and over again, Dumbledore's face in the cave, and Nagini wrapped around John instead of him. He knew for sure he woke up a few times, heart calming as he felt John's breath against his neck. And there were moments that must have been dreams because John would never say "It's okay. Everything's gonna be okay."

* * *

><p>Hermione waited patiently for the two boys to wake up. She really had. But they had gone to bed twelve hours earlier. And Hermione had never been patient so she went to them. The door was answered a bit quicker than the day before, revealing a tired but fully awake Harry.<p>

"He dressed?" she asked. Harry looked at her amused and pulled the door open.

And either Harry viewed John shirtless as dressed or her best friend thought her discomfort entertaining.

"We keep meeting like this," John said as he pulled on a shirt, smirking as she awkwardly looked away. This was the first time she had been in the room since they moved in together. While clothes weren't all over the place, books and clothing laid here and there. They were apparently cleaner together than in separate rooms. In fact, one chair was almost completely clear of clothes, only having one of John's jackets hanging off the back. She sat placing her book on the desk.

John sat on the bed across from her as Harry sat on the desk next to her. "Is this where you propose a threesome?" John asked, smirking as she blushed. Great, he had noticed her discomfort around him shirtless and now was using it mercilessly against her.

"Leave her alone," Harry said throwing a shirt at him. John caught it with a grin, tossing it on the end of the bed.

"I have something to show you," Hermione said.

"Whatever it is don't say it," Harry said to John as he opened his mouth to speak.

"I don't want to know," she decided. "Anyway…" She pulled a photograph out of the book.

John grabbed it first, glancing at it. He handed it Harry. "It appears your friend is a klepto. She took this from the old lady's house."

Harry looked at it. "That's Dumbledore," he said confused. "Younger than how he looked in Tom Riddle's diary but the features are the same." Harry looked at John. "It's a long story. The same one as the basilisk actually."

Hermione wondered if John would ever actually be clued in on their Hogwarts escapades. She supposed Harry didn't tell him because he didn't want to be called an idiot or martyr continuously more than he already was.

Harry didn't hand back the photo. "Who's the other man?"

"Well it took nearly a full night of research," she began ignoring Harry's smile and shake of the head as she grabbed the book and flipped it open to the right page. Hermione handed the book to Harry. "It's Grindelwald," she announced needlessly as Harry read the caption under the picture of the old dark lord in his school days. It was undeniably the same boy as in the photo with Dumbledore.

"No," Harry said, slamming the book closed.

"Wait," John eyed Harry who had stood and roughly ran a hand through his hair. "Who's Grindelwald?"

"The last dark lord," Hermione explained. "Before your father, I mean. He was at his most powerful in the 40s, though he had been around for a while beforehand. He stuck mostly to Central and Eastern Europe"

"He a nutcase too?"

"No," Hermione responded. "Grindelwald was definitely saner and not to mention more human than your father is. Of course it made him less dangerous. He called for putting down muggles and muggleborns, too, throwing around the expression, 'For the greater good'. He believed terrible acts could be forgiven if for the welfare of wizarding world."

"Sounds Machiavellian with a side of Nazi. But let me guess, purebloods were the Aryan race," John said.

"The Ary—" she automatically began to explain to Harry.

"Hermione, I went to grade school," Harry cut in dryly. "I know what the Aryan race is. I can even operate a telephone."

Sometimes she forgot that it was to Ron that she explained these types of things. She smiled sheepishly at Harry.

John looked between them before meeting Hermione's eyes somewhat mockingly. "So I guess the question is: what is your friend Dumbledore—defender of muggles, muggleborns and the American way—doing with a saner version of Hitler?"

Harry glared at John, probably for the slight against Dumbledore, but he too looked unsure.

Hermione only stared at John. "John, we're in England."

"Fine the British way," he said dismissively. "Doesn't quite have the same ring." She saw his eyes travel briefly to Harry who was smiling just ever so slightly. So John was trying to make up for his bluntness in regard to Dumbledore by amusing Harry.

"Doesn't matter," Harry said, quickly getting over his momentary amusement. "Dumbledore brought him down in the end. He _saved_ people from Grindelwald. They weren't friends."

Harry gave one final look to the photo before John took it from him. John studied the photo, his face blank. He gave the picture back to Hermione. She watched him. His blank face said he knew something. She would push later.

"People change, Harry," Hermione tried, watching as Harry almost dejectedly went to the window. "If they can go bad, they can go good. And that's not to say Dumbledore even knew what Grindelwald was really about. They were young."

"He didn't tell me," Harry said quietly as he turned. "He never told me a damn thing." His voice rose in anger. "'Go hunt down the horcruxes, Harry but I won't tell you how to destroy them', 'Oh, I'm sorry. Did you want to know something about me, considering I know everything about you?' And this one's great. 'Hey, Harry, did I tell you you're the heir of Gryffindor? You have to do more than just kill the most powerful Dark Lord in ages. Not big enough to clue you in really'. He had a copy of the damn prophecy with his papers!"

Hermione had witnessed multiple Harry tirades before. They were angry and unstoppable, but worst of all always panicked or hurt. John watched Harry pace. His face was angry too. Harry was voicing everything that John probably thought of Dumbledore. Well not everything but enough. She suspected John's list of grievances with Dumbledore was probably only second in length to his own father's.

And then, when Harry took a breath, her mind caught up to his words. "Heir of Gryffindor?" she asked.

Harry's anger was replaced by brief panic, followed by guilt. He hadn't told her something.

"Harry," she continued threateningly.

"You know—"

"Harry's the heir of Gryffindor because he found a fancy sword. According to some prophecy this means that he either leads the wizarding world to 'it's lightest days or leaves it in darkness'." John said the last part sarcastically.

She stared at John first, then Harry. Of course. It made sense. "How long…" she swallowed. "How long have you known?"

"July?" Harry said in a small voice.

"I see," Hermione responded, turning her head away from him. She wasn't angry like he seemed to expect, she was hurt. Months without knowing about a prophecy which would've weighed on Harry more than the other. And she had only found out because he slipped.

She looked at John. "How long have you known?"

"August," John provided, and while not boasting he was un-apologizing, almost challenging. He was basically telling her that he had become more important to Harry than her only mere months after meeting him, whether he knew he was doing so or not. As they looked at each other, she got the message loud and clear. They could share Harry but at the end of the day Harry was John's. Hermione and Ron had been the only ones trusted with Harry's complete loyalty and faith for years. Now it was John first and Hermione and Ron second. Maybe. Was this what growing up meant? Growing apart? Being replaced by boyfriends and girlfriends?

"I'm not angry," she told Harry who was looking at the ground. This was her Harry, the one that felt bad about hurting people's feelings, the one that irritated John to no end. "I can't lie. I'm hurt. But I'll get over it. I just…Harry you know you can trust me as much now as ever, right?"

Harry considered the floor a moment longer before looking up. His face was sincere. "That's not why I didn't tell you. It was…well I refused to believe it. I still really don't believe it. Sharing it makes it real. Makes it like I believe in my own hype." He glanced at John. "John only knows because I gave permission to Dumbledore's portrait to tell him." John looked at Harry, eyebrows raised, almost daring him to continue on that line of reasoning. "And because for some strange reason my most serious conversations always happen in a bedroom. Or the shower apparently."

"You're serious conversations occur in the bedroom because John's there," Hermione said, almost smiling because he hadn't made the connection. Plus she remembered the shower conversation.

"We only ever had one conversation in the shower," John said curiously. Nope, not going there, she told herself. "I think that's a misleading sample."

Harry made the mistake of looking at Hermione and John looked between them. Somehow this was making her feel better. She never thought she could be partially vindictive towards someone she considered a friend. He didn't like the conclusion he had reached.

"When did you two have a conversation in the shower?" he asked as if it didn't matter. He became more irritated when they looked at each other again.

Hermione spoke before John could. "It was after you cheated on him," she explained. "I think you were with Bobby at the time. I came in while Harry was showering." She paused and Harry waited for her to continue. But she had to draw this out at least a little bit. John's jaw tightened.

"Really?" he asked, failing to keep his voice flat.

Harry turned to her. "You make it sound as if we were in the shower _together_," he said, perturbed. He looked at John. "It was the only place she could corner me and guarantee I wouldn't run. She wanted to talk about you. About how I should forgive you because you cared about me but freaked out because of your issues."

"You watched him shower?" John asked, slightly calmer but not letting her off. It was funny. He had been directing everything at her.

"She spoke to me through the curtain," Harry said annoyed, staring at John. "And what's with you anyway? No one can so much as think about me the wrong way, never mind look at me or god forbid touch me. Malfoy's one thing but Hermione?"

No one spoke. Hermione for one was in complete shock that Harry even knew about Malfoy who she herself only had theories about and that was only because of John's interactions with Malfoy. John on the other hand looked slightly chastised. Now she had seen everything.

"You figured out Malfoy's attracted to you? On your own?" Hermione asked, completely forgetting about her small battle with John and the hurt caused by Harry. This was just too big.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm not that blind," he said. "I suspected it out after that fight I got in with him. Well, a few days later."

"When did it go beyond suspicion?" John asked, he too was clearly surprised. Hermione felt somewhat pleased with that.

"When I had him slammed up against his bedroom wall," Harry responded lightly. John froze and Hermione lost the ability to speak. Harry and Malfoy? She thought wildly.

John let out a breath, relieved. "When you were threatening him to help you rescue me."

"No, I decided to give it a go," Harry rolled his eyes. "Of course when I was threatening him." Hermione could breathe again, too. "I've been with you long enough to realize when someone's turned on. The guy _liked_ that I was practically choking him." Harry sounded incredulous but John smirked, his mind definitely going to kinks. That boy was impossible.

"Just stop picking on him every time you see him," Harry continued towards John. "Nothing's ever going to happen. Ever. With him or anyone else. I'm not even attracted to him. You're still the only guy I've ever been attracted to."

John looked pleased. Hermione thought that Harry really didn't need to feed his ego anymore. Then again, there had to be some underlying insecurity if John felt so threatened, remembering John's face as he informed her that Harry's parents wouldn't have approved of him. She felt a little guilty for leading him to the wrong conclusions.

"But sometimes I just mess with him because I can," John said. "Fucking with him has to be allowed in those situations."

"As long as it's not you being unhealthily possessive go for it," Harry offered. John smirked. Hermione almost felt bad for Malfoy.

Harry's improved mood didn't last much longer as his eyes landed on the photograph of Dumbledore and Grindelwald again. "Hermione," he said, meeting her eyes. "I need to know what happened. Why Dumbledore is in this photo with him."

She nodded. "Of course."

As Hermione left the room she heard John ask, "So are you still Dumbledore's man through and through?"

She waited outside the door so she could hear the answer. "Yes. _I trust the man I knew_."

"You're a fool." Harry didn't argue. In fact the room got quiet. They didn't ask her to close the door behind her so she kept it open in case she could hear one last thing.

Hermione was lucky. Harry's voice reached her. "So did I tell you about the many fascinating things I've found out about floo powder?"

She shook her head. Those two. She was surprised to find she wasn't as hurt as she originally was. Yes, this was part of growing up. Relationships changed all the time. It didn't mean that their friendship was any weaker. Again she was given reason to think that John and Harry's relationship could work. Two boys incapable of talking about their feelings talked to each other. Go figure.

* * *

><p>Harry prepared himself for awkward. Christmas dinner. The Weasleys, Remus, Tonks, Hermione, possibly the Malfoys, Harry and John all together in the same room for the first time since Harry's abandonment of the Order.<p>

But Harry also prepared himself for a more embarrassing awkward. The kind that made him feel like an insecure kid. Metal shined as Harry turned it over in his hands. He waited for John to leave the bathroom, hair still drying from his own shower. Was he sure he wanted to do this?

As his second thoughts came back full force, the water turned off and John appeared, randomly choosing clothes as he went. Harry took a breath: this was it. He had to do it now or he would back out. After, he could just leave the room, save himself the embarrassment.

"John." John looked up. Harry tossed it and John caught it, peering at it. Harry left before John could look up again.

* * *

><p>A lighter. John sat on the bed, hair hanging in his face, and stared at it, flipping it over in his hands. Another zippo but this one had no deco fading away on it. John flicked it open, testing it. The wheel resisted a little bit more than his shark one. It needed to be worked in. The lighter wasn't particularly expensive or meaningful but it was a gift. Very few people gave him gifts, especially not on Christmas. Bobby respected John's indifference to the holiday, saving gifts for John's birthday. And Harry knew that John found Christmas useless (despite John's 'Merry Christmas' earlier, which he had only said because sorry really wasn't in his vocabulary). But Harry had gotten him a gift anyway. He even had to have asked someone to get it for him as they rarely ever left the house.<p>

As John snapped it closed, his thumb brushed against something. _SJA_. John flipped it over. _Pyro_. He smiled. Harry never called him Pyro, disliked the name really, but he at least recognized the importance of that name. Every mutant had a self-proclaimed name. And his initials? Yeah, John wasn't really an Allerdyce but he had always liked his name, even if he didn't particularly feel like a St. John.

So John took the shark lighter out of his pocket and placed it on a side table before pocketing the new one. He looked at the shark lighter. He had traded in his bics for that zippo before he had even got to the mansion and had never replaced it. Bobby thought that John had an unhealthy attachment to the lighter.

But he had a new one now because he wasn't some skittish kid who hadn't seen food in days anymore. He wasn't even that kid that had turned all that skittishness into anger. John may not have known who he was now but he was different somehow. Less angry at everyone except perhaps his father and Dumbledore.

John pushed his hair back off of his face (he really needed a haircut) and declared himself ready. He jogged down the stairs and into the dining room. Besides Mrs. Weasley who was probably still cooking, everyone was there. In other words, it was packed with a sea of red hair mixed in with the usual house occupants.

He didn't spare them another look, taking a seat next to Harry who was sitting next to Remus, staring at his hands uncomfortably. Was it Remus? But Harry didn't look at John as he sat so John figured it had to do with him.

John fidgeted a few moments. His hand brushed against the outline of the lighter in his pocket. Then suddenly, he unceremoniously dragged Harry out of the room, ignoring the odd looks being sent at them. He barely closed the drawing room door before he pulled Harry into a rough kiss, refusing to break it until he absolutely needed to breathe. Though he had frozen when John first kissed him, Harry soon returned as good as he got. As usual it was a fight for dominance but John's experience was now combined with sudden need, one that he didn't think even Harry could understand.

Harry barely got any air before John pulled him back in, hand behind Harry's head. John grabbed handful of Harry's shirt, part of his belt loop and probably a good bit of his ass with his other hand and practically hoisted him up off his feet just enough to easily drive him back against the wall. John heard Harry's body thud softly against the wall.

John ungracefully moved to unbutton Harry's jeans, breathing heavily.

"What-" Harry managed to breathe out.

"I'm…" John kissed him as he finally managed the jeans. "Thanking…you…."

"You don't hav—" Harry got out as John moved to his neck.

"Want," John explained, feeling that more words were a waste of energy. It occurred to him that he hadn't locked the door but Harry had finally stopped complaining as John fell to his knees.

* * *

><p>Remus wasn't the only person staring after Harry and John. Was that a fight or something else? The room was silent for a few moments before Hermione began to make conversation with Bill, discussing goblin culture and goblin-wizard affairs.<p>

Remus turned to the Malfoys. He looked at Narcissa. "How has your holiday been so far?" he asked kindly. The two Malfoys were practically isolated in the house from both the outside and the others.

Narcissa kept up the conversation, as she had been treating him with increasingly more respect over the months. "It doesn't quite feel like Christmas without the Manor. Though, I must say, it began excitingly enough. Has Potter healed nicely?"

Remus looked at her curiously and he noticed Draco hide an amused smirk. Hermione froze in her conversation with Bill and turned to Remus quickly. "Well, you see, we went to Godric's Hollow yesterday," she said. The room went quiet again and Hermione quickly continued before anyone could interrupt. "We knew the risks but John and I both felt it was really beyond due for Harry to visit his parents' graves."

His heart twisted. It was something he, Sirius, or even Dumbledore should've done years ago. "I take it that it did not go as planned," Arthur said. He appeared too tired to be worried. They had all seen Harry looking fine a moment ago anyway.

"There was an incident with Nagini actually," Hermione said slowly but a bit less tentatively now that no one had reacted badly. "Harry just got a bit bruised. Otherwise he's fine."

Remus nodded as the atmosphere grew less tense. "Perhaps someone should be alerted next time you three leave," he suggested neutrally, aware that he had absolutely no authority over the youth of the house. That authority belonged to Harry. He really wished to speak with Harry about the D.A. business, not as an Order member but as a friend. But he worried that he had already ruined that. Maybe John was who he really should speak to.

"Yes, my husband has enough gray hair," Tonks said, affectionately running a hand through his hair. He gave her a small smile.

"We told Malfoy," Hermione provided.

Eyes turned to Draco who shrugged. "I was told to tell you if you asked."

Narcissa turned to chastise her son. "If this happens again, let Mr. Lupin know immediately. Don't make him worry for Potter or Pyro. Nor you Ms. Granger, I apologize." There was nothing fake about the somewhat kind look she sent him. So she had recognized Remus's paternal affection for the two boys.

"Where are St. John and Harry?" Molly asked as she entered with a platter of turkey, eyes immediately traveling along the table. The twins snickered. "And what are you two laughing at?"

George muffled his laugh as Fred spoke. "I think John is spreading the Christmas cheer."

"Yes, he's very festive," George agreed.

Molly glanced around as if asking someone to clarify. They heard a thud against the wall. The twins snickered again and even Hermione seemed unsure of whether to smile or wince. Remus had to agree, it was relatively amusing if one kept from thinking further on where the two boys were. But Molly still seemed confused.

"Uh, dear," Arthur began. "John was rather eager to speak to Harry it seems."

"I don't think they're doing much speaking," Draco mumbled but only Remus, his mother, and Hermione heard him.

"I see," Molly said, placing the food on the table. "Would someone go fetch them, please? Their dinner will get cold." Glances were exchanged around the table. The poor woman was going to have to be clued in.

"Molly, I think it's a…er…private moment," Tonks tried gently.

Molly looked around and everyone avoided her glance. Someone had to just outright tell her; she would never connect Harry to anything involving sex on her own.

Draco looked at the twins. "Five galleons say Pyro's on his knees." Narcissa turned white at her son's words. She certainly hadn't expected that level of vulgarity from her aristocratically-raised son.

Fred and George considered it. "Agreed," they said in unison. "Our money says handjob."

Molly finally turned pink. "Fred, George, Draco…" she seemed to try to scold them. Finally she sat. "Oh, my."

Remus made a move to serve the turkey. She looked gratefully at him and the table turned quiet, some people hiding amused smiles and others maybe a bit scarred, the scraping of forks and knives almost echoing around the room. They all looked up as the dining room door opened and Harry and John slipped in, John absentmindedly wiping at his mouth. Oh my, indeed. Remus felt his hair turn grayer.

Draco looked at the twins as John and Harry sat in their seats and casually turned to their meals. "You owe me five galleons," Draco informed the twins. Harry glanced between them dubiously, obviously knowing that whatever was going on involved him.

Glaring, Fred reached for his money. George looked at John. "All you had to do was use your hand. But no, you just had to use your mouth." Harry coughed up the drink of water he nearly had.

John appeared unfazed. "Gotta play to your strengths, man."

"Please," Molly interjected looking disturbed. "Not at the dinner table boys."

"Of course not," John said, taking a bite of food. "Not with the drawing room just next door." Remus expected Harry to be mortified but Harry seemed to be unsure of whether he should find it amusing. "And really, for that sort of thing, a wall is a lot better than a table." That did it. Harry stared intently at his food.

Molly seemed to lose the ability to both speak and eat. Arthur glanced cautiously at his wife.

* * *

><p>John really wished that Harry and he would stop fighting. That was two arguments in practically one day though the gift and blowjob might've made up for it. Their fights never lasted long but he always feared that eventually he would say something he couldn't take back. Because John knew what could hurt and when angry, he couldn't hold back.<p>

He pushed it from his mind as he watched Hermione attempt to convince Harry yet again that he was more powerful than he gave himself credit for. As John expected, Harry only let him and Hermione in for the actual planning. They had decided to go with fire for the attack against Knockturn Alley after all. But John wouldn't be the only one. The DA would light as many fires as he could control and Harry…well Hermione was trying to convince him to do something bigger. Something that both John and Hermione knew Harry could do but Harry was stubborn about not being special.

It really was annoying. John always pushed his own power, hoping that he had more in him. He could only manipulate the fire but that didn't mean he didn't keep trying to create it. It was all about grasping as much power as possible. Yet, Harry infuriatingly tried to grasp as little as he could. Crazy.

"Harry I know you can do it," Hermione tried again.

"Yeah, I'm sure I can light it," Harry argued. "But I won't be able to control it. Why don't I just set off the fiendfyre and let John control it."

That was a good question, but John knew Hermione was pushing Harry, preparing him. John appreciated it. Harry didn't need to be a leader in his books but the more power Harry had the higher his chance for survival. John had always found fear a useful weapon. It was time to make the enemy fear Harry because, frankly, Harry could be pretty damn scary.

"Because John has enough fire to control and fiendfyre is harder for him to do so. We can't double up on him," Hermione explained, exasperated. John knew he could take it but whatever helped Hermione sleep at night. Plus John wanted to see what Harry was capable of. Somehow, he seemed to have missed every demonstration. Like the battle at the Ministry he was passed out drunk for. And apparently something to do with a basilisk, a dragon, demontors and time turners, and probably another dozen things John was kept in the dark about.

John decided to intervene. "How about we just try it," he suggested. Harry glared at him. Had he really expected John to be on his side? "Practice and I'll be there to step in when necessary."

"Like training wheels," Hermione suggested.

"I wouldn't know. I've never ridden a bike," Harry said annoyed. John didn't like that; even he had ridden a bike. He had never owned one but one of his neighbors' sons had taught him when he was little. That was before people started viewing little Johnny Allerdyce as trouble.

"You get the picture," Hermione said, tone returning to exasperated.

But Harry was stubborn and just stared at her. John grinned. "How about a blowjob for every improvement you make. I can even give them better as we go along."

Hermione stared at him disbelievingly before looking around uncomfortably. It was extremely entertaining to embarrass her and it was especially easy since she was both a prude and a little attracted to him.

Harry, however, wasn't impressed. "That's something you'd do it for."

"Come on Harry," John grinned, trying his best to make him smile. This was John's form of endearing. "Everyone enjoys a blowjob. Well guys at least." It wasn't quite working, but John knew something that could. "If you get it, I'll even let you fuck me."

Harry tried not to look interested, even looked bothered for a moment, eyes flickering towards Hermione who had actually winced. Did he hold out for Hermione's sake, trying not to scar her? But Harry actually looked uncomfortable. Why? He was usually amused by John's come-ons. Though admittedly, John was actually serious about this one.

"I think I'll leave you to convince him," Hermione said, collecting her books and getting out of the room.

Harry turned away from John without looking at him. Had John done something wrong? All they needed was another argument. Really how many could they have in 48 hours?

John was about to go to him when Harry faced him. Harry studied him for a moment, thinking something over. "Fine," he decided. "We do it your way. I try the spell and you cover when I mess up."

But there was something in Harry's tone and it wasn't defeat. "What did I do now?" John couldn't think of anything he did wrong besides maybe mention sex in front of Hermione which wasn't exactly new.

Harry looked at the ground, apparently debating internally on whether he should answer. Finally he lifted his head but still didn't look at John. John saw Harry's face in profile. Strong jaw he thought idly.

Harry looked down again before determinedly meeting his eyes. "Last night you thanked me with a blowjob," he started. "And now you're offering to reward me with them." John stared at him blankly. He still didn't see his problem. Harry sighed, before asking quickly, "John, on the streets, how did you survive?"

John shrugged, keeping his tone calm. "Stole cars, pick-pocketed, tortured once but I couldn't do it again. Broke into a few small stores."

"Is that it?" Harry's eyes were intensely staring into his. John met them like a challenge. He knew Harry knew what else John did. But like hell John was going to tell him. "Stop keeping secrets."

"You're one to talk," John snapped, growing angry. This wasn't Harry's business but if he wanted to hear it, fine. "What do you want me to say? That I sucked off middle-aged men for a few dollars? You want me to say that more people have been where you've been then you can even imagine? I'm a whore. Literally." It was John's turn to look a way, jaw and body painfully tense.

Harry closed his eyes. Well, he asked. "You're not a whore," he said quietly. "And don't think I didn't already know. I just…Johnny yesterday, today you made sex feel like some sort of transaction. Almost like I did something for you so you do something for me. Bartering."

John still didn't get the point in talking about this.

"Don't get angry," Harry tried again, awkwardly. "I'm not trying to fight. I'm just trying to understand."

"You can't," John stressed, waiting for Harry to drop it. "And us? It's not about payment. Everything I do for you, let you do is because I want to. I enjoy it."

"You promise?" Harry asked. "You don't just feel obligated?"

John got it now. Harry was worried about him, wanted to make sure John wasn't just falling back into an old role. "Yeah," John said, moving his head so that he could meet Harry's eyes again. "Promise. I want you. One night stands were about getting off but this is about wanting you. And Harry, you're the only one I let fuck me for free." Harry still looked sad. He felt bad for John and John hated it.

"I hate your life," Harry finally said.

"I hate yours too," John agreed. "Harry," he said reassuringly. "I promise that I picked way more pockets and stole way more cars than I ever sold myself. It was always my last resort."

That seemed to make Harry feel a little better. Was he imagining that it was a nightly thing? "Was it only just men?" Harry asked curiously.

John shrugged. "Some women but very few."

They didn't speak for a few moments but John saw his chance. "Things like with the basilisk, the dementors, the troll, why did you do it?" John asked now that they were talking about each other's pasts. "You were a kid. Why not just let the adults deal with it?"

"Because they wouldn't believe me," Harry shrugged.

John grinned. "You have so many issues."

"How is that an issue?"

"Besides the fact that it almost gets you killed?" John asked, finding Harry's ignorance ridiculous. "You risk your life for shit like that because you could never trust the people who were supposed to protect you. Your family. Teachers. Why should it have changed once you got to Hogwarts?"

Harry thought about it but didn't comment. "So you told me almost everything about your past," he said finally, suddenly getting nervous. "I guess I should tell you about mine."

"The Dursleys?" John asked, because really he had already got the message there.

"No, they were really repeat offenders on the whole cupboard thing," Harry admitted. "I just thought you'd want to know about all the times I risked my life. You know, my résumé. But only if you refrain from yelling at me."

And it was about time really.


	33. Grindelwald

_Mutant Son_

Warnings: Slash (not graphic). Strong Language and Suggestive Content. Crossover. Remember, takes some from DH but mostly non-compliant**. Dark, rated M for a reason.**

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling's and Marvel's. X-Men First Class direct reference.

**Chapter 33: Grindelwald**

John stared at his tea. With Harry and Hermione doing whatever it was that friends of the opposite sex did, he had too much time to think. Hermione was a fan of talking so he figured that's what they were doing. But about what? He wondered if he asked Hermione whether she would tell him. Would she at least tell him if something was wrong?

But Hermione had kept things from him too. Sure the past's the past but sometimes the present was just more of the same. He didn't like the fact that everyone else but him knew what Hermione had called Harry's résumé either. With John's past, the only people that really knew anything for sure were Harry and Bobby, and while Bobby might've known more, around Harry John didn't act like it didn't matter. At least not as much.

Now John had a dozen different stories running around his head. An eleven year old Harry facing a professor with Voldemort on the back of his head, almost dying. A basilisk, a sword, and a twelve year old Harry saving Ginny Weasley, almost dying. Traveling back in time at thirteen to save his godfather, doing the impossible (especially for his age) and driving back a hundred dementors, almost dying or losing his soul, John wasn't sure of the specifics there. Then the people that were supposed to watch out for Harry sent him off to face a dragon which, no, was not the size of a dog. Not to mention that Harry finally told him the details of Voldemort's return, his godfather's death, and the night of Dumbledore's death, including a cave, fire, and a bunch of animated dead bodies of some kind. And though those were life threatening situations, at least he wasn't in the process of dying during any of them.

John had originally wanted to know these stories because he needed to know the things Harry had done. Now John realized he had been missing more. As well as he thought he knew Harry, their conversation the day before made him feel like he didn't know him at all. He knew Harry was reckless, but to that extent? Though he had known that Harry wasn't 'just Harry' but more of Harry Potter than he realized, John never really understood who Harry Potter was, why people looked to him like they did. But he was getting it now. Voldemort may have made Harry the boy-who-lived but Harry had made himself the person everyone thought him to be.

The worst part, though, was that John just _didn't_ understand. They were so completely different. Even if John had been in Harry's shoes year after year, he wouldn't have cared about any of it. But Harry cared so much that he willingly put himself in danger. It made John question all over again why Harry was with him. How could Harry love someone who would let a man he didn't know, godfather or not, die rather than risk saving him? It wasn't even about the risk: John just wouldn't even care. Which made him feel like a horrible person all over again. And John rarely felt like a horrible person, at least not until he had met Harry.

And now there was so much worry. Sure Harry was now seventeen and could handle himself better than when he was eleven or twelve, but the stakes were higher. Harry had promised not to sacrifice himself, but when the time came, would he be able to resist? John was pulled out of his thoughts as Remus entered the kitchen. He sat across from John.

"There's hot water still," John told him, just to diffuse any silence. Remus shook his head, motioning to the cup in his hand that he quickly heated up.

"Wolfsbane," he explained. John and Remus just looked at each other. When was the last time John had spoken to Remus? Before his capture probably. And while John held nothing against Remus for that, Harry did, so Remus had dropped off of John's radar because really? Only Harry mattered. Which wasn't fair for Remus, he supposed.

"How are things going with the DA?" Remus asked, cringing at the taste of the potion.

John shrugged. "Don't know." Remus waited curiously for him to continue. "You know Harry. Right now it's just me, him, and Hermione doing things. The rest'll get called in when we need them."

Remus nodded thoughtfully. "With the DA, Harry doesn't have people watching his every move," he theorized.

John shrugged. "I guess. Personally, I think it's because Harry's a loner and doesn't know how to deal with so many people at the same time." He paused, wondering if he should continue. John never cared whether he hurt people's feelings before so he went for it. "Besides," he added. "How can he trust people who never gave him a reason to trust?"

"Harry knows that he can trust me," Remus argued, obviously hurt.

"Not in the way he needs," John said, taking no pity. "You supposed adults failed him all his life. It's a different kind of trust."

"And he trusts the DA?" Remus asked.

"He trusts that they won't interfere," John answered. "And they trust him enough to follow him, even when it doesn't make sense. If it wasn't Harry, I would say their idiots for that. But it is Harry."

"How about the Order?" Remus finally asked, seeming to have accepted John's answers.

"You guys let us do what needs to be done and there won't be an issue," John said, communicating the warning: stay out of our business.

Remus sighed. He looked terrible. The war, his pregnant wife, and the approaching full moon were taking a toll. A man like Remus didn't deserve this, but John knew that's how the world liked it. Then Remus did what John didn't expect: he dropped the conversation. "How have you been?" Remus asked instead. "War aside."

John looked at him carefully. Was this somehow an attempt to obtain information? John didn't think so, and not because he thought Remus above that, but John knew by now that Remus actually liked him and the question was probably sincere. So he answered. "Fine."

"Harry?"

"A mess but hanging in there," John admitted, slowly tipping his mug back and forth. "Feels a little bad for leaving the Order. And he's having nightmares again since the thing with Nagini."

"Is he at least dealing?" Remus asked tentatively, as if wondering if this was acceptable territory.

John just stared at him, eyebrows raised. Stupid question. Harry never dealt, he just pushed everything back until he lost it. He really needed a way to let loose, to forget for a couple of hours. Not even sex could do that, because Harry was back to thinking when they finished. John wondered if he should try something more tiring. Or get Harry drunk enough to forget for a while. But all they needed was Harry going into a fight drunk.

Remus looked as if he was about to ask another question but was interrupted as Harry himself entered the kitchen. He paused at the door, suddenly looking as if he expected to be berated. It was in moments like these that Harry looked like the kid Bobby had worried him to be. But if Harry was a kid, then John was a kid, too, admittedly more cynical and world weary as opposed to Harry's combined faith in people and his war weariness.

When no scolding came, Harry entered further. He glanced awkwardly at Remus one more time before turning to John, "I was wondering if you wanted to practice."

So Harry was still willing to try out fiendfyre. Tactically, it was one of the best ideas Hermione had ever had. John wondered if Harry had got over the whole blowjob bartering system theory enough that he would let John do as promised. Because frankly, combining fire and Harry sounded like the hottest thing John had ever heard. He glanced briefly at Remus who seemed to want to talk to Harry.

"Sure." John got up and headed towards the basement, leaving without waiting for Harry. Hopefully they'd settle at least something. And if not, then John got an angry Harry. And fire. Sounded like the perfect way to drive off any insecurities Harry's past had given John about their relationship.

* * *

><p>Hermione was reading in the library when Malfoy came in. She expected him to pause and leave, or at the very least keep a safe distance. Instead he sat across from her.<p>

"You ever get your five galleons?" Hermione asked. She hoped her alluding to Harry's relationship with John would do the same as John doing so. No luck.

"Yes, thank you," he responded, eying her for a moment before continuing. "I thought Pyro would be the type."

She peered at him curiously. "What type?"

"Well as I see it, he probably whored around so much he's perfected the art. And enjoys it too." She sensed both disgust and bitterness in his voice. And she didn't like that Malfoy hit closer to the truth than he knew. Malfoy was probably suggesting promiscuity rather than what Hermione expected John did on the streets. What Remus thought too. Then there was the fact that Malfoy, a guy who was so clearly attracted to men, found fault in John for perhaps enjoying giving a blowjob.

"Whether he was here or not, Harry would never give you what you want," Hermione informed him instead.

Malfoy sneered. "And what do I want?"

"Harry," she provided. "You want what John has so you hate him. It's nothing new when it comes to you."

"I don't want what Pyro has," Malfoy denied. "He's trash. And as for Potter? I want him for one thing and one thing only."

Hermione smiled. "It's never going to happen."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. It was bordering on neutral rather than disdain. "I know that. I have eyes you know. They're all over each other. Disgustingly love sick." He looked disturbed by the very idea.

Hermione returned to her book though she didn't take anything in. Why was Malfoy even here?

"What are you researching?" Malfoy asked.

She lowered the book. "Why?" she asked suspiciously.

For the first time in her life, she saw Malfoy looking unsure. "I can help," he finally said. She didn't respond, unable to even form words. "I'm tired of sitting around here and maybe it's all the Gryffindor in the air but I figured I can help." He looked at the book she was reading. "And I bet almost half of what you research I can tell you off the top of my head."

Hermione rolled her eyes at his ego. "I think I can best you in smarts, thank you."

"But not in knowledge." Amazingly, it wasn't an insult. "Granger, I've lived in the wizarding world for seventeen and a half years. I know the legends, I know the history, and I know a hell of a lot more about dark arts than even these books can tell you."

She couldn't argue with that. "Prove it," she decided. "Tell me, how would I be able to find out something about Grindelwald's life? What he did before he was a dark lord."

Malfoy looked at her, clearly confused on why she would even want to do that. But he answered, nevertheless. "You could go to the source," he said once he realized she expected him to answer. "Ask him."

"What do you mean?" she asked. "Dumbledore killed him."

"No," Malfoy said, amused. "See this is what I meant Granger. Dumbledore defeated him; he didn't kill him."

"So he's still alive?" Hermione asked, getting excited.

"Yes and rotting away in a jail cell in Albania."

Hermione could hug him. "Oh thank you," she said instead, knowing a hug wouldn't be well received. "You have no idea what you've just done for Harry." And she rushed off before he could react. She had two boys to find.

* * *

><p>They waited for the guards to unlock the cell door. Hermione did her best not to fidget since, unlike John, she looked nervous when she did so. John would only looked restless. Looking over at Harry and John, she tried even harder as she saw their calm and confident demeanor. This was Harry Potter as she knew him. He was excellent at getting information out of people. But he must have been nervous. This wasn't the war. This was personal.<p>

Finally, the guards let them in, locking the cell behind them. She would be nervous if not for the anti-magic wards surrounding the cell. Her eyes found an old man in raggy clothing with straggly hair sitting on a cot. He looked at them as they entered.

"I don't often get visitors," Grindelwald said, studying each of them. Despite his appearance, his mind was clearly still fully intact. "And Albus has not come to see me in a long time." Hermione glanced at Harry who betrayed nothing, just studied him.

"My name is Harry Potter," he said finally casually walking around the cell as if examining it. John's eyes didn't leave Grindelwald. He was on guard dog duty apparently, not boyfriend duty.

"Harry Potter?" the man grinned, mostly toothless. "Yes, Albus told me about you. But you do not like a young boy."

"No, not a young boy," Harry agreed. "Of age."

Grindelwald's face fell ever so slightly. He looked to the bars on his window as if they held an answer. "Ten years?" he gasped, turning his eyes again to Harry, ignoring both John and Hermione. "Already ten years since I've seen him. The only one who always remembered me."

Harry's jaw tensed. That wasn't what he wanted to hear. "Apparently," he answered, his eyes boring into Grindelwald before turning to look at Hermione.

Hermione took the photograph out of her bag, handing it to Grindelwald. "I found this at Bathilda Bagshot's," she told him as he peered down at it, almost as if it was the most fascinating thing he'd seen in a long time. It probably was.

"We were young" he said, eyes still not leaving the picture.

"Were you two friends?" Hermione asked softly.

"Who are you?" he asked, looking at her for the first time, turning his head ever so slightly towards John.

"Hermione Granger," she replied confidently. "A muggle-born." She expected to see a reaction from him but he only returned to the photograph.

"Yes, we were friends," he said slowly, as if considering his words even as he spoke them. "Albus was to help me fight for the greater good. But when his sister died, he withdrew from me. Blamed me. Blamed himself. He decided to fight for the muggles and muggle-borns instead of his own kind." Grindelwald shook his head. "All that power put to waste at a school. We could've ruled together."

Harry's voice was sharp. "Dumbledore didn't want to rule anything. He wanted to do what was right."

Grindelwald stared at him. "I thought you would remind me of him," he admitted. "But you do not. You're headstrong, temperamental, and you believe that the right thing is something that exists. Albus knew it wasn't so. Even fighting for the 'right thing' as you called it, he knew that sacrifices had to be made for what he considered the greater good. Peace. Equality. A fool's dream."

Harry's hand tensed on his wand though it wouldn't do anything. "How did you two become friends?" he asked instead, as if the man's answer would prove that he was lying.

"Albus had a promising career," he told Harry, setting the photograph aside. "When his mother died, Albus was forced to leave all that and take care of his family: a younger sister and brother. His brother Aberforth was a disappointment to the Dumbledore name and his sister, well his sister was never the same since what those muggle boys did to her." He paused to measure Harry's reaction but Harry's expression didn't change. "You see, he was stuck. And he knew his power was too great to be taking care of a sick girl. I was freedom. We started making plans. How to attain power. Who to recruit. Even our exact goals. But his responsibilities kept him tied down even as he grew bitter. When his sister died, I was sure he would join me." Grindelwald sighed. "But instead it drove him away from me as surely as it drove his brother away from him."

"Did you kill her?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"I don't know," Grindelwald responded. "She got caught in the crossfire in the fight between Aberforth and myself."

Harry took everything in. "So, Dumbledore came to his senses," he said. "He knew what you were doing was wrong."

Grindelwald smiled again. "He thought so. But he never stopped fighting for the greater good. I expect that he raised you into the perfect warrior of the light."

Harry didn't respond but Hermione saw John shift ever so slightly. It was what John thought too. "He brought you down, didn't he?" Harry challenged. "He just taught me to do the same thing."

"Yes," Grindelwald looked amused. "He did bring me down, though he avoided it for years. Albus didn't want to fight me, you see." He didn't go on. Hermione's eyebrows furrowed in thought. He seemed to be suggesting something. But what? Even if Harry or Ron went evil, she wouldn't want to fight either of them either. "But eventually he did. For the greater good. You see, Albus would sacrifice anything for it. Wizards." He looked at Harry. "You." He was no longer smiling but there was something in his eyes. "Me."

Oh my. Harry looked angry at Grindelwald's words against his mentor, but he hadn't realized what else was said. Hermione knew now what John had realized when he first studied the picture. His expression now confirmed that he wasn't surprised.

"I can't imagine that you were a big sacrifice," Harry said. "Your friendship ended a long time ago."

Grindelwald laughed though it was weak. "Yes, our friendship."

"Stop messing with him," John warned, stepping forward for the first time.

Grindelwald studied him. "Are you another muggle-born?"

"No," John said, lighting his lighter and pulling at the flame. The way the fire created shadows on his face made him appear dangerous. But John _was_ dangerous. "Something else."

Grindelwald seemed somewhat unnerved. No one could do magic in the cell but John had just displayed power. Power that Grindelwald had no way of recognizing. "And your name?" he said, his old voice calm.

"Pyro. St. John Allerdyce. Either/or really," John said, letting the flame flicker around his hands. "If Albus," John sneered in disrespect, "told you about Harry Potter, he must've mentioned my father."

Grindelwald's mind had not faded away a bit. He knew exactly what John was saying. "Lord Voldemort's heir I presume," he said with interest, looking again at Harry. "What interesting company you keep Harry Potter. A muggle-born and your enemy's son."

"And a blood traitor," Harry offered, challenging Grindelwald to say something. "He's just not here."

"Hmmm…" Grindelwald went back to observing them. "So why _are_ you here? Only to ask about a silly photograph?" No one answered. It was true but how to explain it? "Or is it something more? Are you losing faith in my old _friend_? Who has he sacrificed now?"

"Dumbledore's dead," Harry informed him coldly. "You're supposed _friend_."

A flash of regret appeared on Grindelwald's face but it was almost immediately suppressed. "Your friend, Harry Potter, called him my friend. I would've called him something completely different. But you never answered my question. What has he done?"

"Nothing," Harry said impatiently. "And what would you have called him?"

"Lover." Harry froze. "I'm afraid that I have been incarcerated so long I no longer know what other word can communicate what we were."

John glared at him. Did John just expect Harry to walk away not knowing? Hermione wished John would've stepped in before. Why couldn't he play boyfriend and guard dog at the same time? Because now, Grindelwald was about to get the angry boyfriend which, under the circumstances, was so much worse.

"I told you," John growled, stepping forward and letting the flame grow slightly. "Stop. Messing. With. Him."

Grindelwald eyed the fire, unable to look away. There was undeniable fear in his eyes. He had recognized that John was one person you didn't mess with.

"John," Harry said, anger fading. "Don't. He just told me the truth."

John didn't look at him. "Yeah, trying to fuck with you."

"Leave him," he insisted. John didn't back down. "Please." It wasn't so much the word as the tone of voice that did it. John backed away, heading straight to Harry. They didn't need to touch. It was clear in the way they stood and by John's quick acceptance of the order what they were to each other.

Grindelwald watched them curiously, again Hermione thought she saw regret. He slowly got his composure back. "I will do you a favor," he told them. "I will give you a bit advice. First, the only way to defeat your enemy is to know them and, second, you are each other's weakness. Forgetting the first will get you killed and forgetting the second will do more damage than kill."

Harry didn't look at him, not knowing what to say. He knew things weren't black and white but in anger, Hermione had never seen him remember that. With everything in red, only two tones existed, one lighter and one darker.

Hermione had learned from watching Harry and John that you chose your friends but not necessarily the person you fall for. Harry could forgive Dumbledore's involvement with Grindelwald but if it was true that everything was about the greater good to Dumbledore, even his relationship to Harry, there could be no forgiveness.

John, however, was looking at Grindelwald differently and Hermione had seen that look before. "That's ridiculous," he finally commented. "You were some powerful dark lord and you spew out shit like that?" Harry choked out a laugh. "I actually have more respect for my father after that than you. And I find my father pathetic."

Hermione couldn't help it. She laughed, too. Grindelwald didn't look insulted. "A half a century in a cage, my friend. You lose what makes you who you are." He turned to Harry. "And pretending to be someone you're not is worse."

"I think that's what John's talking about," Harry tried not to smile. "That only works for Dumbledore. Worked. And that's because he at least looked fatherly and wise. You…well you—"

"Lost the war? Need a bath?" John suggested.

"Use the greater good to excuse prejudice and hatred," Harry added seriously, remembering why this man inspired his hatred. "Dumbledore was fighting a war against a mad man. And if it's true that he cared for you then I respect him more. Fighting against anyone I loved would be the hardest thing I could ever do."

Both John and Hermione couldn't help but watch Harry. His confidence and calm had replaced his anger and shock. But only those who didn't know him as well would be convinced. In fact Grindelwald looked at Harry with new eyes, no longer seeing the boy. Harry played this game well. He had no idea how effective the Harry Potter persona was. It came to him naturally. Hermione never got why he insisted on mediocrity in the face of all he was and had done. It was infuriating.

Harry turned to leave and they could only follow. John sent one last glare at Grindelwald. They were a bit slower to get out of the cell than Harry who wanted nothing else to do with the man. Hermione didn't trust John enough to leave him alone there. Harry and Hermione might not be able to do magic there, but nothing held John back.

It was Grindelwald to speak, however. "You have quite a young man there," he informed John. "Do not make him have to fight you."

"I know where my loyalties are," John sneered, dismissing him.

"Make sure that you do."

Harry was waiting outside for them, hands stuck into his pocket to guard from the cold. You could see his breath. The calm and confidence had fallen again. Hermione stood back as John went to him. She felt as if she was often an observer these days.

John rested his hand on Harry shoulder, trying to get him to turn towards him. Harry didn't resist but he didn't actually cooperate either, shifting ever so slightly. John's face showed his worry. In front of Harry, and even Hermione, he didn't hide his feelings in regards to Harry. It was a moot point by now. John might've had a lot of anger towards Dumbledore but as Hermione thought before, sometime in that cell he switched into boyfriend mode.

"How did you know?" Harry asked, glancing at John.

John shrugged. "If there's one thing I know, it's body language. That photo? A whole lot of signals."

Harry nodded as if he suspected as much. He looked at her. "How about you?"

"Not until a couple of minutes ago," she told him.

Harry dug his hands deeper into his pockets. Hermione wanted to leave, to get back to headquarters where it was both warmer and less depressing. But it was clear Harry wanted to do this here. "I never knew him at all, did I?" he laughed. "Not that I would expect him to tell me about his love life, but how about his family? He told me he had come to love me, like family. Was he just manipulating me?"

Hermione hated when his voice got small. John glanced at her. He didn't want to say anything because he couldn't lie. That's exactly what John thought Dumbledore did, but Hermione knew differently.

"He did love you," Hermione told Harry. "You should've seen the pride on his face when you did something extraordinary. If he wanted to shape you into the perfect warrior, he would've told you about your destiny before the Department of Mysteries. But he erred in judgment, trying to protect you. And the other prophecy? The heir of Gryffindor? Dumbledore didn't mold you into a leader Harry. He never even tried." John studied her. He didn't believe it but then again he was cynical. John rarely saw the good in anyone.

"Maybe the pride was because I was following his plan. Maybe he protected me because he needed my trust," Harry argued. His voice shifted between angry and hurt.

"I don't think Quidditch fit into his plan for you," she told him with a smile. "Whenever he watched you play and went down to congratulate you, he was so proud. Harry, yes, Dumbledore manipulated you. But he didn't make you anything. He taught you because he knew that it was your job. He knew he wouldn't always be there. And honestly Harry, if Dumbledore didn't orchestrate what he did, would you have ever survived the final task? How would you have any hope of winning now?

Hermione knew her role. She was there to reassure because John couldn't, wouldn't. She was Harry's friend and his supporter. And Hermione was the planner, the one always prepared. Not everyone could wing it like Harry or fight scrappy enough like John. That's why Harry trusted her.

While Harry didn't look completely convinced by her words, he thought it over. In the morning things would look different. They always did. Hermione had overheard Harry say the other day that he trusted the man he knew. And Dumbledore had never led Harry astray despite any manipulation.

"I'll tell you one thing," Harry finally said. "When I see his portrait again, he has a lot of explaining to do." The look on John's face told Hermione that he agreed. And that Dumbledore's portrait would make the same fate as Mrs. Black's if he didn't like what he heard.

* * *

><p>Harry felt as if he had gone through every emotion possible the last few days and it was tiring. But if there was one thing he knew, emotion made him stronger. It always had. Even if it also tended to make him an idiot. So he practiced with John, casting fiendfyre over and over again. His anger fed the fire but it didn't help him control it.<p>

About the fifth time John had to put out the fire, he approached Harry, Hermione joining them. "Problem?" he asked Harry. Harry just looked at him, ready to snap at him as he had been for days.

Hermione diffused the situation. "Maybe anger isn't working," she suggested tentatively. "It gives you plenty of power but no control. Right now you need control."

Harry sighed. She was right. "I have no control," he said, knowing he was bordering on dejected. But he was tired and he didn't care how he sounded. They only had three more days before the planned attack. "Just ask Snape."

"Unfortunately, he's too busy being a Death Eater to tell me," Hermione said dryly. He appreciated her sense of humor though sometimes he wondered whether it really was a sense of humor or whether it was unintentional and everyone just found her biting remarks amusing.

"I don't have the control for Occlumency. I don't have the control for nonverbal spells—"

"That's stupid," she interrupted. "I've seen you do them. You just have to be in a dangerous situation. I swear you would've been top of the class if you did all your exams in dangerous situations."

This time Harry did laugh. Even John appeared amused which he hadn't been in days. Since Grindelwald, John had been so serious and focused on practicing fiendfyre. Harry guessed it had something to do with John's new preparation bend though he had no idea how their meeting with Grindelwald fit in.

"You know," John cut in. "The Professor always told us something when we were working on our mutations. He said that we would always have the most control, the most power if we worked from a place somewhere between rage and serenity."

Hermione looked contemplative but Harry didn't buy it. There was no such place. If there was, Harry would've found it. He thought that Ron's teacup reading third year had been very telling: suffering and happiness. Though Ron's interpretation was somewhere along the lines of Harry suffering but being happy about it, Harry figured it fit with what he often felt about the wizarding world. It gave him a life, happiness but it also brought death and suffering. But he had never found a place between.

"That's stupid," he finally voiced.

John shrugged. "It didn't work for me but I figured Xavier's been teaching mutants how to control their powers for years, it must work for someone. Plus, he has that whole telepath stuff going for him."

Harry still found it stupid.

"Think about it Harry," Hermione said almost excitedly. It was the tone she used when she had just solved a puzzle. "The patronus is the most powerful spell you've conquered so far. At least the corporeal nature of it. What do you use to cast it?"

"A wand?" John offered.

Harry sent him a look before answering, "A happy memory."

"Yes," Hermione agreed, happy he was getting her train of thought so far. "But what do you use to power your spells? To make them so strong?"

"Anger," John offered again. This time it wasn't a stupid answer. But Harry still wasn't convinced and Hermione could tell.

"Think about the first time you cast a corporeal patronus," she told him. "You told me that you were able to cast it because you already knew you could do it because you had already done it in the future. You knew you would save Sirius. To add to it, why were you there? In that exact place near the lake."

"To find my dad." John looked at Harry oddly. Did Harry not mention that when he told him about the time turner incident as he liked to call it?

"And what did you feel for the entirety of that night?" Hermione asked again, as if coaxing the correct answer out of him and, through that, understanding.

"I don't know." He thought back. It was a horrible night, draining beyond even his run in with the dementors. "Panic and anger, mostly. It was like I found a chance for something else besides the Dursleys and it was ripped away."

"Could you call your anger rage?" she asked smiling.

"I don't know." But it made sense. He hadn't just performed a patronus that night. He had formed a powerful one, probably his greatest accomplishment. And that night was one of his happiest and saddest. Believing his father was alive just for a few hours only to find out it was Harry himself who saved him. Gaining a godfather and losing him on the same night.

"The correct answer," John informed them, "is that anger and rage are synonyms. Rage just sounds better. You know: 'rage, rage against the dying of the light'." Hermione and Harry looked at him oddly, Harry for his words and odd mood. "Dylan Thomas?"

"Wasn't he a singer?" Harry asked. He had heard that name before.

"That was Bob Dylan," Hermione informed him.

John just shook his head. "Both of you: pick up a book some time." Hermione was about to argue. "Literature, Hermione. So about this rage and serenity thing…"

"It's possible, I guess," Harry decided. "But it's not exactly something I can control. Anger I can do but right now serenity is the farthest thing from my mind."

Hermione and John looked at each. They hadn't thought that far. She turned back to Harry. "Bear with me now," she told him almost placating. "We're going to have to think this out." She paused for a moment as if figuring out an approach. "Harry, when do you feel your most calm?"

How was he supposed to figure that out? Harry looked at her blankly. "I'm not exactly in touch with my emotions, Hermione."

She sighed, irritated. "I don't get why you have to be so difficult."

Harry glared. "How about you try casting this spell over and over again and, no matter how hard you try, you can't control it. It's irritating and it's draining."

"Hermione, back off," John finally stepped in. Now he was on Harry's side? Harry glared at him, too. John only looked at him. "Stop giving me that look. Give it to Hermione or something." She huffed but John ignored her. "Look at it this way, Harry. When don't you feel like you're gonna crawl up the walls, like everything's just falling down on you? When can you forget you're Harry Potter if just for a little while?"

Harry didn't have to think about it. It was a stupid question really. The answer was obvious. "Right before I fall asleep and right after I wake up. Usually."

He spotted Hermione smiling. What was that about? John was sending him a look, too, though it felt more evaluating than anything.

"We can work with that," John said slowly, look changing ever so slightly. Harry had seen that look somewhere before.

But Harry moved on. "I don't think putting me to sleep on the battlefield is going to work."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's the feeling you're trying to channel. Not the actual action." Harry wasn't an idiot. That was meant to be sarcastic. "So what is there every time you fall asleep and wake up?"

"The bed."

"Maybe I should be saying who," Hermione said. He knew that tone, too. She was telling him he was thickheaded and being impossible.

Harry looked over at John who had taken to leaning against the wall, his eyes still hadn't left him. He was waiting for Harry to get it. "Oh," Harry finally said, turning back to Hermione. "John."

"Gold star," John said sarcastically.

"Yes, really," Hermione agreed.

"But the plan is for John to be on the other side of the alley," Harry argued.

"You're impossible," Hermione said tiredly. "Didn't I just say it's the feeling, not the actual action?"

Harry was confused again. Why didn't they take pity on him? He wasn't as smart as them.

"Think of it like meditation," John offered, pushing off the wall and going over to Harry.

"What do you know about meditation?" Harry asked. John couldn't sit still let alone relax enough for something like that. How could he talk?

John didn't answer. "Alright," Harry said. "Stand back. I'm going to try it out."

"It's like remembering a happy memory for the patronus," Hermione informed him before he started.

He tried to remember how he had felt waking up this morning. Not too great when he came to think of it. At least not for the last few days. Both John and Harry had something on their minds and it didn't go away lately. He sighed. Alright he was in bed about to go to sleep. John was sleeping. Why hadn't John told him he had known about Dumbledore and Grindelwald before going? No, not important. But other thoughts kept interrupting. Who was Dumbledore? Why did he feel so abandoned? So just to make the thoughts stop, he cast the spell.

The fire rushed out of his wand, untamable. He tried his best but it was too strong. He had to be stronger, damn it. But that thought only caused the fire to grow wilder. Finally, John put it out. He looked tired. This was wearing him out which could have, come to think about it, explained his odd mood the last few minutes.

"It's not working," Harry complained. "And don't lecture me. I tried. The last few days haven't exactly been easy."

Hermione looked at him in sympathy. He quelled the urge to squirm. But soon, she turned to studying both of them, thoughtful expression on her face. Harry could see when the idea actually crossed her mind. Her eyes traveled to John.

"John, Harry's going to cast the spell," she ordered. "You're going to calm him down when you see him start to lose control."

John didn't argue, moving to stand a close distance from Harry. Harry took another breath and he tried the spell again. This was insane. He was doing the same thing over and over again without results. The flame grew hotter.

Then he felt John lean his forehead against Harry's head, mouth near his ear. "Just calm down. You got this." Right so just breathe. John didn't move away. Control, he had to have control. He poured his anger into the flame but grabbed that momentary feeling he got like this, with John, like he wasn't Harry Potter, and he used it. "Good," John whispered. "Make it circle the room. I'll keep Hermione safe."

Of course John would keep her safe. Harry had no doubt of that. So he focused on directing the flame. For a moment, it seemed to be listening, moving along the walls, contained. He did it. But no sooner had he thought that did it escape, reaching in all directions. John let him go and Harry watched as John held a hand up towards the flame. It took longer than before for John to put it out and his breathing was a little hard. Harry grabbed his arm as he finished, checking how hot his skin was. John was burning a lot hotter than normal.

"We're done," he told Hermione.

"But you were just getting it," she responded, almost bouncing on the balls of her feet.

"We do this anymore and John's going to pass out," Harry nodded his head towards his boyfriend who looked slightly out of it and not entirely focused.

Hermione followed his nod, her face becoming worried when she saw John's condition. "Take him upstairs," she told Harry. She eyed him. "Never mind. You both look dead on your feet. I'll apparate you."

Harry was going to refuse. He didn't need to be taken care of. Hermione made him feel like a child sometimes. But she grabbed both of them before he could refuse. At least she had enough respect not to apparate them directly into their room. He didn't think she'd be able to resist tucking them in or something.

Before leaving them at the door Hermione sent them her sternest mothering look. "Straight to bed. Both of you." She looked directly at John. "And by bed I mean sleep. No ideas John."

He only stared at her like she was a peculiar creature. "Yes, Hermione," Harry responded monotonously, dragging John into the room behind him.

"Did she just send us to bed?" John asked, standing in the middle of the room.

"You get used to it," Harry informed him. But Hermione was right. He _was_ tired. So tired that he didn't think he could manage undressing. He fell directly into bed, only just kicking off his shoes.

John was still standing in the middle of the room, looking at Harry. "What?" Harry asked, too tired to be suspicious.

"You have weird friends," John finally said, stripping down to his boxers before joining Harry in bed. "You're wearing too much clothing," he added.

"And you not enough," Harry responded. "It's winter." He was staying fully dressed.

"I'm hot," John said, shrugging. He placed his lighter on the nightstand. Harry looked at it. Besides John's blowjob thank you, the gift hadn't been mentioned again. But it gave Harry an odd feeling seeing John carrying around the lighter he got for him, shark lighter officially retired. It was a last minute gift really. Harry hadn't intended to get a gift but he had been staring at John's lighter and saw that the shark teeth were fading out. So he had asked Fred and George to pick him up a plain silver lighter. He only needed magic to do the rest.

Harry moved closer to John who remained where he was, moving no closer. "Sorry," John said. "I'm really hot." If Harry was Bobby, that wouldn't be a problem. Harry wasn't quite jealous of Bobby anymore. He knew that John wasn't interested in Bobby but, at the moment, being an ice mutant would be nice.

"'S okay," Harry yawned. His eyes traveled to John's lighter again. "What did you do with your other one?" he asked.

John glanced at his lighter on the side table, before reaching over into the drawer and pulling out the shark lighter. He flipped it open before glancing at Harry. He held out the lighter towards Harry.

"What?" Harry asked as John looked at him expectantly.

"Keep it," John told him. Harry slowly reached for the lighter, taking it and flicking it open experimentally. It was harder to light than John made it look.

"Thanks," Harry said, not knowing what else to say. This could either mean something important or nothing at all. Was it a big deal that John just handed this lighter over or did John no longer have an attachment to it? John's eyes stayed glued to the lighter but when Harry handed it back to him, they moved to Harry. "Put it next to yours until the morning," Harry said. John did so.

Harry eyes fell closed even before John could turn back around. He rolled over, trying to get into a more comfortable position. He laid there for a few moments. Suddenly he felt a hot body press up against him.

"Thought you were hot," Harry said, though a small smile appeared on his face.

John's breath was even hotter than his body. "Won't be able to sleep otherwise."

Harry could've responded to the statement but he chose not to, not admitting that he would probably have had the same problem. As he felt the heat from John's body move to his, Harry thought that this would be a good feeling to remember for Knockturn Alley.


	34. To Be a Better Man

_Mutant Son_

A.N. Thanks again reviewers. I really appreciate it as fewer reviews come in. Some action in this chapter but not much. However, it's also the beginning of an important plot point. And I'm trying to give plenty of Harry/Pyro time to make up for it.

**Chapter 34: To Be a Better Man**

John found Hermione in her bedroom. Knocking on the door, he entered without waiting for permission. It wasn't locked so he figured it was safe.

"Is something wrong?" she asked. Did something have to be wrong for him to search her out? Well, usually yes.

"Nah," he told her, pulling out his lighter, opening and closing it. He wasn't nervous, but since getting the new lighter he had been trying to work it in. Needless to say, people were quickly getting annoyed. But he was used to that. It was becoming a habit again so they were going to have to get used to it. Most of the mansion was. "Just wanted to ask you something." She waited for him to continue. "What's with Harry and deer?" he asked. "First the patronus and then the fiendfyre."

"It's a stag," she informed him smiling. "His father was an illegal animagus—meaning he could transform into an animal—and that was his form: a stag."

"Illegal?" There was a good chance John would've liked Harry's father with a personality like that. Harry seemed to inherit that disregard of the rules, the law, and even plain orders. Some Golden Boy. Then again, Harry always did it for good reasons. John should teach him the fun of just breaking the rules because he could. "So it's some sort of connection to his father."

Hermione nodded. "He calls the stag Prongs. That's what his father's friends called him. Remus is Moony for obvious reasons. Sirius was Padfoot since his form was a dog. And Wormtail—"

"A rat." Harry had told him about that particular ability before John went in to torture him. "So with that whole calling card thing we were talking about…how many people know Harry's patronus form?"

"It's pretty common knowledge now," Hermione responded. She looked interested. "You think we should use a stag instead of a phoenix. You think he'll go for that?"

John grinned. "Do we really have to tell him?"

Hermione looked unsure. "I don't think…I mean you know the temper Harry has."

"I can deal with an angry Harry. Just put it on me." He turned to leave.

"John," Hermione called back. "Was that just an order?"

John smirked, flipping his lighter over in hand. "Take it as you want. What authority do I have to make you listen to me?"

Hermione studied him. "But you know I'll listen."

"You're smart," he told her. "You recognize a good idea. Harry won't see this as tactical. He'll be too focused on not liking the attention."

"But why does it matter? For you, I mean," Hermione only looked curious. "You don't want him to be Harry Potter."

"I want him to live," he replied simply. He knew he didn't have to answer but they worked closely together. And Harry trusted her. Hell, he trusted her. "He doesn't know the power of fear."

"But you do," Hermione said. It wasn't searching; it was just a statement.

John just looked at her. "I'm fire. I don't have to burn anyone to be frightening. The idea of me gives me control, gives me power." She nodded but he didn't like how she was looking at him. He couldn't read it and he could almost always read her.

John went to leave again but, again, she stopped him. "John, I know my place and you know yours, too." There was a bit of irritation in her voice. "Next time you give me an order, just do it. Don't play with me."

He didn't answer but he had always been an asshole so he sent her one last smirk before leaving. John didn't mean to rub it in but he didn't feel guilty. It was what it was and yeah John wasn't a leader but he couldn't lie, any power was good power. And if it meant that he ranked first on the most important person to Harry list, all the better. He was still riding that high of being Harry's serenity though John knew he drove Harry crazy sometimes, and not always in the fun way. But he was also slightly bothered by the whole thing. The old him thought it mushy and weak but he sort of got it now. He couldn't pretend that being with Harry in those moments without the war didn't calm him, too. Yet Grindelwald said they were each other's weakness. John hated being weak.

Harry was showering when he got back to the room, probably trying to calm down before later tonight: show time. John examined his face before shaving. He had to admit, not shaving everyday was very convenient. And it was nice to look his age for once. He was pretty sure that people thought Harry and John were the same age. John hated looking younger than he was. It was a disadvantage for him really since he depended on intimidation. Harry's age worked for him: his enemies had underestimated him and it made him some sort of legend with the wizarding world in general. But Harry's enemies had finally learned not to underestimate him; now what they needed was to fear him. If John could arrange it, the Death Eaters were going to fear Harry more than they ever feared Dumbledore.

John glanced over at the shower. Steam was pouring out from behind the curtains. How long had Harry been in there? "Need some help?" John shouted over the water.

"Funny," Harry responded, voice barely audible over the water. He was still in the shower by the time John finished shaving. That was a seriously long shower. Was he fully dressed in there again? Harry hadn't been awake when John left so there was a distinct possibility that Harry had rolled out of bed in a bad mood and threw himself into the shower without bothering to strip. John had thought it quirky when he first saw Harry show up clothes dripping wet. And that he needed some alcohol. But that was before they got involved. John thought he had fixed that which was definitely a boost to his pride. The other night he quickly became worried when he found Harry in the shower fully clothed. So worried that it literally pained him and he ended up doing what he said he never would. Telling Harry that everything would be okay. But John would never do that when Harry was awake. Never.

Glancing at the shower curtain, John decided to have some fun. Who knew what would happen later? Lately John had been getting sliced and diced. Might as well have fun when he could. He shed his shirt. Unlike Harry, John didn't particularly like wet clothing.

He pulled back the shower curtain. Harry turned his head from where he sat leaning against the back of the tub, letting the water fall into his face. Sure enough, he was fully clothed. That was ridiculous. Had he had a nightmare last night? John couldn't remember.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked. If Harry wanted to calm down, John would calm him down. And hopefully Harry would get over the whole fully clothed shower thing.

"Having some fun," John responded, pulling Harry up from the tub. John expected Harry to resist but he didn't, only stumbling as he let John pull him in. John somehow managed to reach around him to shut the shower off. Harry made it more difficult by pushing into him.

Water had spilled out onto the floor and John almost slipped. This was getting treacherous. But John always lived dangerously. He wasn't gentle as he helped Harry out. Neither would break the kiss. John felt Harry wince into the kiss as his back met the sink.

"You're going to do more damage to me than the battle later," Harry said, pulling away slightly.

"Sorry," he mumbled, trying to kiss him again, a little gentler. But Harry pulled away again.

John had trouble holding back, so caught up in what they were doing, but Harry caught his eyes. "You said sorry," he mumbled.

"Mm-hm," John responded absentmindedly, leaning in again.

Harry didn't say anything more, pulling John into a kiss just as roughly. John didn't know how he managed it, but Harry switched their positions, driving the kiss.

Harry started pulling at him, getting them to the bedroom. They hit the bed and John nearly fell on him. From there Harry let John lead which John found perfectly fine. He was going to make it rough, rougher than ever. He wanted Harry to not stress out, to not think about anything for a while. And this was the only way he knew how to do that. John bit hard on Harry's bottom lip. He smirked; as it turned out: Harry liked it rough. That was good. John struggled to pull Harry's t-shirt off which was only made harder by the fact that neither would break contact for longer than a breath. Finally, the shirt was off and across the room. The jeans were easier. John settled for just pulling them down. Harry returned the favor, grabbing at John's jeans. He moaned. Harry attacked his neck. That was going to leave a mark. Harry was a quick learner. It wouldn't take long for John to get off. Imagine that.

This was exactly what he needed. Never mind Harry.

* * *

><p>Harry felt good. Really good. And that feeling lasted through most of the day. In fact, he had to put it aside when the DA finally gathered. Harry, John, and Hermione went over the map, checking again how they had positioned people. Everyone was paired up. Harry hadn't realized it at the time, but it seemed as if Quidditch drove his decisions. But he guessed Quidditch was about tactics anyway. The beaters, Fred and George together, working towards Harry's side. There was no denying they worked well together. Katie and Angelina, the two chasers, covering towards John's side.<p>

Then both Harry and John needed someone to watch their backs. John could've died last time he insisted he could watch his own back. They had gotten into a brief argument about who Hermione would be guarding. John wanted her to guard Harry and Harry wanted Hermione to guard John. It spoke to how much they both trusted her. Finally, Harry won as Hermione agreed with him that John was most at risk for getting caught up in what he was doing. Especially if John had to cover for Harry if he lost control. John had been glaring at her since that decision. Lee had shaken his head at them all, pointing out it could really break a guy's pride that neither had confidence in him. But he had followed it with a smile.

They waited for two fifty-seven a.m., a nice random time when the alley was least likely to be crowded. They didn't want to kill anyone. The clock ticked away.

Finally, it was time. "Ready everyone?" Harry asked. He got nods all around the room. Harry and John looked at each other for a moment. This was the first time they would be apparating into battle separately. Harry met Hermione's eyes. He knew she would protect him. "1…2…3."

The alley was dark and mostly empty when they arrived. But both Harry and John were still going to have to be careful. 2:57. Harry saw something. Light shooting into the air. A shape took form over their heads. It wasn't a phoenix; it was a stag. He didn't have time to be angry. The DA members and John got the fire going.

Breathing deeply, Harry closed his eyes for a moment. He had yet to be very successful with this spell but he was needed. Failing meant putting too much on John. Opening his eyes, he cast the spell. For the first time, he saw a fiery stag leading the flame. The stag ran through the alley. He heard screaming. Harry made sure not to hit anyone. He thought a few times that John had helped out because there was no way he could've caused that hairpin turn.

This felt…good. It was like an adrenaline rush. The feeling only gave the spell more power but Harry's control didn't slip. He thought about earlier today, after John had practically mauled him. Not that that was a bad thing.

Harry and John's flame met in the middle before spreading into the buildings, slow enough to let any people inside escape. He saw people trying to put out the fires, but that was impossible. Water couldn't stop fiendfyre and Harry had never seen anything stop John. Especially with the DA feeding the fire.

Harry could actually feel his heart beating in his chest. He could feel the fire like it was running through his veins. Was this how John felt? He got John's fixation on his power now.

They heard people finally disapparating. Harry and John let the fire loose then. It burnt everything, leaving ashes and charred buildings behind. They pulled the fires back towards them before putting them out. It was an awful feeling.

It had taken no more than twenty minutes. They had won with no resistance. For the first time in a long time, Harry felt like more than a failure. He hadn't let anyone down. He looked into the sky where the stag shun. One of them was going to get in trouble for that, yet he couldn't help but think that Prongs had a right to be there. In his parent's memory.

As planned, they quickly retreated back to headquarters. Harry looked around. No one was harmed and there were only smiles on everyone's faces. Success felt good.

"Which one of you ditched the phoenix idea?" he asked John and Hermione.

"I told her to do it," John said simply. Of course Hermione would listen. "And I told her not to tell you."

The DA glanced between Harry and John. "Next time don't go over my head," Harry said. That felt natural. He didn't want to be a leader but he just filled to role without really realizing it.

Hermione at least looked apologetic but expecting the same from John was asking too much. He would do it again. Harry had a hard time pulling his eyes away from John who was still slightly flushed and breathless from exerting that much control over the flames, but Harry had people to address.

"Uh…well." What was he supposed to say? "Good job. I guess we'll see what shows up in the papers the next few days." Should he dismiss them? He didn't know so he just gave them a small smile. Thankfully it was late and he didn't have to dismiss them. Slowly they all left, presumably to go to bed. Hermione was the last to leave.

John headed towards the cabinet near the door, pulling it open. He turned around, bottle of something in his hand. He produced two glasses. Without really looking at Harry, John went over to the couch and placed the two glasses on the coffee table. He filled the glasses before finally looking at Harry.

"Have a drink," he said. Harry didn't move forward. He didn't think he wanted alcohol. He hadn't ever really had a good experience with drunk people. Uncle Vernon tended to shout at him. John cheated on him and liberally used alcohol as a painkiller. All in all, alcohol didn't seem too alluring. But he did finally join John on the couch. He didn't reach for the drink that John held out to him. John's eyebrows rose.

"I'm trying to give you a nice normal teenage experience: binge drinking. Come on, just take it."

Harry shook his head. "Don't want it."

Shrugging, John put it aside and downed his. "Well, I'm getting hammered. You can sit back and watch."

Harry rolled his eyes as John poured himself another drink. He eyed the glass. John drank this one slower.

"Why do you drink?" Harry asked as he watched the glass gradually lose its contents.

"Most people drink," John dismissed. Harry wasn't impressed. "Listen, it's a depressant. It shuts me off for a while. Either you dwell suicidally on all the shit in your life or you forget." He finished the drink.

"And if you dwell?"

"Then you drink until you pass out." John eyed Harry. "I just want you to relax, let loose. You'll be fine."

Harry wasn't too sure. "I don't know. What if I like it too much? Or am an asshole?"

John grinned. "First, you don't have an addictive personality. That won't be a problem. Second, who are you going to be an asshole to? Me? I don't see the problem."

He had a point. This was succumbing to peer pressure, wasn't it? But Harry had to admit, he was curious. And he could really use to forget. He grabbed the drink, looking at it for a moment. He took a drink. It burnt his throat on the way down, but after it wasn't so bad. He took another drink.

When he looked up, John was grinning at him. "I'm corrupting you."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I think it's too late for that. When I got to the point that I enjoyed being slammed up against the bathroom sink, I knew I was corrupted." John looked even more pleased. Edging closer, he hooked a few fingers into Harry's pocket. Harry wasn't sure what he had meant to do originally, but soon John's hand was half-way in his pocket, pulling something out. John's lighter.

John stared at it, thumb running along the top. "You carry it with you?" He handed it back to Harry.

Harry shrugged. "You might need a back up." At least that was one of the reasons. He also liked having something of John's on him and the lighter was less conspicuous than one of John's shirts. It was also more…John.

John stared at him. Had he said something wrong? "This has been a good day. A very good day," John finally grinned. Harry looked at him curiously. "First I get to have amazing sex. Then I get to combine two of the hottest things, hell three of the hottest things I know: fire, my lighter, and you."

To anyone else, the fact that Harry made that list wouldn't be a big deal. But this was John. Fire was part of who John was. Even the lighter felt like an extension of him. Hermione would tell Harry that him being on the list was an obvious but Harry would never get used to that feeling. Harry ignored the alcohol. He kissed John, pushing him down. Why use alcohol to forget when you had someone to help you forget?

"You have an unhealthy fascination with lighters," Harry told him as he pulled away, keeping John pinned underneath him.

"Just _my_ lighters." John pulled him down again. Harry's hand closed over his. The metal of the lighter was warm against his skin.

* * *

><p>Hermione and the other DA members waited impatiently for John and Harry to wake up. The two knew they were keeping an eye on the newspapers. As long as they didn't get side-tracked, they should have made a stop in the library shortly after waking. It was usually where they met Hermione and, lately, the DA.<p>

It was past noon. The door opened. But it wasn't Harry or John; it was Malfoy. He quickly put on an expression of cool disdain, an expression he reserved for the DA as a group. Amazingly, he was more neutral with her and Harry. John was a totally different story. But John also liked making Malfoy's life difficult.

"A little early for a party," he stated. He gestured to a table near the window. "You mind if I grab my book before you begin making your big plans." He didn't wait for an answer as he retrieved his book. He flipped the book open briefly before closing it. "You waiting for your heroic leader and his boy toy?" he asked as he looked up. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, have you seen him?" one of the twins asked.

"He's passed out on the couch in the living room," Malfoy responded. "One of you may want to fetch them before your mother has a heart attack." He said this to the twins.

Hermione's eyes went wide. "They're clothed aren't they?"

Malfoy smirked. "Not very well. And my guess is that Mrs. Weasley won't approve of the firewhiskey."

"I'll go get them," Hermione decided. She had no idea what he meant by not very well but at least they were covered. Even a mild display of their relationship added on to the alcohol could indeed bother Mrs. Weasley. While it was clear their relationship didn't affect her opinion of Harry, she seemed slightly more distrustful of John these days. And though she never said anything, their relationship obviously bothered her. It was best to avoid any problems.

She was surprised to find Malfoy following her. "Granger." She waited for him to catch up. "Did you get what you need from Grindelwald?"

Hermione didn't know whether to answer. But he had helped them. "Perhaps," she responded. "It's complicated."

Malfoy nodded. He took a breath. "Do you need help with anything else?"

Her eyes narrowed. "I don't get why you're helping."

"I told you—"

"Yes, you did," she interrupted. "But you don't believe in anything we're fighting for. It would make the most sense from your standpoint to stay neutral."

"Pyro doesn't believe in what you're fighting for anymore than I do," he pointed out.

"He has Harry," Hermione said, annoyed at his constant attacks on John. "That's all he needs to fight."

Malfoy paused for a moment. "This is my world," he told her. "And from what I've seen, I can't live in a place like this without looking over my shoulder every minute. In the last war, neutrality helped no one. Besides I'm not asking to fight, just to help."

She knew he was sincere, at least for the moment, but Malfoy was a coward. If need be, he would betray them. He had no loyalties to the people here. But…he did have his mother who had been helping out more and more by serving as a field healer. And he was right. This was his world, too. Maybe Malfoy did have a reason to stay loyal: for the greater good, Hermione thought bitterly.

"Talk to Harry," she finally decided. "I have no authority."

"He listens to you," Malfoy said.

"Not as much anymore," Hermione admitted, walking towards the living room again. He followed along. "The only one he really listens to is John."

Malfoy made a face. "That sounds like a disaster in the making."

Hermione had to admit, it was a possibility. John was headstrong and confrontational. And, when pushed, he would be ruthless. But he would keep Harry alive; he would think in ways none of them could. John was either the best or worst thing to happen to this war. Only time would tell.

They got to the living room. "I guess we're about to see what you mean by 'not very well'," she said, swinging the door open slowly. It wasn't even all that bad. Somehow Harry and John fit comfortably on the couch even if they had to be halfway on top of each other. Harry faced John ever so slightly and John had an arm thrown over him, head resting just under his shoulder. Every item of clothing was on if not exceedingly disheveled. Shirts were half-way open. Thank god. She didn't know what she would do if they had had sex on that couch. Even if it was cleaned.

"You had me worried," she hissed at Malfoy. She suspected that what he was really bothered by was the display of affection they showed by sleeping as they did. Hermione wondered what the root of Malfoy's issue was.

She went over to the back of the couch, putting a hand on John's shoulder. "Wake up you two." Hermione nearly fell backward as John shot up, lighter in his hand, flame appearing just as quickly. Harry was a bit slower but even he had his wand. She suspected that it was John's sudden movement that got him up.

John put out the flame as he realized it was only Hermione. He brushed his hair out of his face. "You don't wanna do that next time," he warned.

"On edge?" Malfoy asked.

John looked at him. "What are you doing here?"

"I want to talk to Potter," Malfoy responded. He probably thought it best to talk to Harry when he was half asleep.

"What time is it?" Harry asked drowsily, sloppily re-buttoning his shirt.

"Past noon," Hermione responded, eying the alcohol. "How much did you two drink?"

"Me a couple. Harry one." John fixed his shirt. "Got distracted."

Hermione didn't know how the two got anything done with how easily they were distracted by each other. Harry yawned. "What do you want?" It was unclear who he was addressing.

"The DA's waiting," she told him before glancing at Malfoy. "Malfoy wants to talk to you about helping."

That seemed to wake Harry up. He looked at Malfoy curiously. "I had to twist your arm to help me before."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "That was before. Plus you were being an idiot Gryffindor."

"Harry," Hermione interrupted before the two could start arguing. She was surprised that John hadn't said anything but he only studied Malfoy. "Malfoy was the one who told me about Grindelwald." Harry's eyes shot to her. "I didn't tell him anything. I just asked him how I could find information about him."

Harry nodded and sat back down. He contemplated his shoes before looking up. "Why do you want to help?" he asked.

Malfoy crossed his arms over his chest. "Like I told Granger. This is my world, too. I'd like to see it back to normal."

Harry stared at him for a moment before looking over at John. John only shrugged. Did he think it was a good idea? Not that his animosity towards Malfoy would ever allow him to admit it. It was true, though. Malfoy had an insider perspective and a lot of knowledge.

"We can try it out," Harry said slowly. "See how you work with the others. How much help you can provide. But I don't know if I can trust you."

"How can you trust anyone?" Malfoy returned. "Wasn't Pettigrew a close friend of your parents?" Harry's eyes got darker. He didn't want to think about any of his friends betraying him.

"You take an oath," Harry decided. "Nothing that would harm you. I just need you to promise not to betray us."

Malfoy considered it. "No clauses?" he asked. Harry shook his head. "Fine, but that's all I'm going to promise. I won't betray you." He said this directly to Harry who stared at him, looking for more. Malfoy caught on. "Any of you."

Harry nodded. He turned to Hermione. "Can you?"

"I'm already on it." She located a sheet of parchment and a quill in a nearby drawer before scribbling furiously. She would do something like the DA list, just with more than boils this time. She read it over, handing it over to John. If she couldn't find something wrong with it, he could. He read it over.

John handed it back to Hermione. "It's fine. Simple," he told her.

Hermione performed a few spells before bringing the parchment over to Malfoy. "Just sign here." She pointed to the bottom of the page.

Malfoy read it. "I vow to never betray the DA, the Order of Phoenix, or anyone fighting against the Dark Lord and his followers." He took the quill, signing the parchment. It was done.

"Good," she grabbed the parchment, handing it to John who pocketed it. She trusted him not to lose it more than Harry. "Now we have DA members to meet." They headed out the door. Malfoy didn't follow.

"Coming?" Harry asked. Hermione hadn't thought that Harry was actually going to allow Malfoy into the DA. But maybe the oath was just enough for Harry to trust him to the required extent. "Only limited access, though."

Malfoy looked surprised, too, but he only followed after.

"Finally," Lee said as they entered the library. Everyone's eyes turned to Malfoy.

"What's he doing here again?" George asked unkindly.

"He wants to help," Harry told them. "I made him take an oath. He could be useful so let's leave it at that." The others didn't look happy about it but they didn't argue.

"So is there a reason you guys woke us up?" John asked, finding a spot on the wall to lean on. Harry took a seat at the table where he noticed the Daily Prophet. He looked at it.

"It's already made headlines, huh?" Harry flipped to the inside, eyes traveling across the page. His face was neutral when he was done. He handed it to John who also read it. John smirked.

"Wanna read it?" John asked, offering Malfoy the paper. It was almost friendly. Odd.

"I saw it," Malfoy responded distrustfully. "Impressive. Granger come up with the idea?" He didn't allow time for anyone to answer. "No, she wouldn't think offensively." He was right. His eyes traveled over John and Harry. "Pyro came up with the offensive attack but Potter picked the venue. Then Pyro decided on fire and Granger pushed fiendfyre."

Malfoy hit it spot on. He was good at reading people. That was probably what made him an effective bully. He was smart and identified weaknesses in his rivals. But that didn't mean he didn't notice anything else.

"Have any insight on Death Eater behavior?" Angelina asked. "I think we already know ours."

"Can we move back to the article?" Hermione asked before the tension could lead to any bickering. "Obviously it wasn't a positive article," she continued as John gave the paper back to her. "But we have a picture of the stag and the charred remains of the buildings. And we were identified as the culprits. I think this was a success."

"As much as it pains me to say this, you were more than a success," Malfoy admitted almost reluctantly. "Potter showed what he's capable of. Up to this point, the Death Eaters generally considered him unusually lucky and quick on his feet. Snape spent years telling them that Potter's neither especially gifted nor powerful." Harry snorted. Yes, that sounded like Snape. "He was just proven wrong." He glanced at Pyro. "And you continue to look like a threat. The article suggests that you're a loose cannon, probably insane."

John smirked. "My father told me I had potential. That I was remorseless. I guess he moved on to insane."

"Potential?" Fred asked disbelievingly. The idea made Hermione nervous. She trusted John but she wasn't a fool. He would betray them if pushed. But would he ever betray Harry? Dumbledore and Grindelwald probably never thought that one of them would do such a thing (she was still unclear about who betrayed whom there). Grindelwald must've seen something. He told John not to make Harry fight him. If John was let loose, became a weapon for someone that wouldn't hold him back, who encouraged him, his hatred would make him a dangerous enemy, almost wild. And then John would stop being John and willingly take up the persona of Pyro. Hermione thought that was the reason why Harry didn't like the name. He didn't like the connotations.

They discussed a few other things, such as ideas for communicating with those inside Hogwarts but no one could quite form a workable idea. Soon, however, they disbanded, leaving the four inhabitants of headquarters alone in the library. It was quiet. Malfoy turned to leave but Harry stopped him.

Malfoy stared impatiently at him and Harry paused, as if re-considering whatever it was that he was going to say. When Harry met Malfoy's eyes, he was determined. "You know Occlumency."

"Yes, why?" Malfoy responded slowly.

"I need to learn it." Hermione couldn't believe it. Harry had made no efforts at it, seeming uninterested in it at all. And now, of all people, he was asking Malfoy for help? She glanced at John who was trying to mask his worry. For Harry? Or was John still unhappy about Malfoy and Harry being in the same room?

Malfoy studied Harry. He seemed torn. Hermione could understand why. In one way or another, he'd be linking his mind to Harry's. But at the same time, Malfoy seemed to legitimately want to help.

"Alright," he finally answered. He glanced at John. "But without him. It's hard enough to learn. He'll only be a distraction."

Harry also looked at John. Hermione saw him hide a smile as John met his eyes. He turned back to Malfoy. "You sure it's not just to get me alone?"

Malfoy's eyes narrowed as John snickered. He glared at John. "Don't look at me," John grinned. "You gave yourself away."

"Don't take it too seriously, Potter," Malfoy practically drawled. "It's a physical attraction. I wouldn't want you now that Pyro's been all over you anyway."

Harry didn't attempt to hide his smile this time. "Just keep your hands off me." He paused. "Unless we're fighting I guess." John looked at him amused. "Hey, it's not a possibility. It's practically guaranteed."

Some things never changed.

* * *

><p>John and Hermione were eating in the kitchen. Harry's Occlumency lesson with Malfoy was running over. John would think that Harry would want to get away from Malfoy as quickly as he could but he was spending a lot of time with him the last week. Not that John was jealous. Harry had told him about the disturbing dream he had had the night before the attack on Knocturn Alley. It was one thing to enter into Voldemort's mind during an incident and another thing to be entering into Voldemort's dreams. The first could at least be useful but the second? Well, the second was probably detrimental to Harry's mental health. So John was happy that Harry was learning Occlumency, even if he didn't like the teacher.<p>

Harry finally appeared from the basement. He looked drained and whiter than normal which was quite an accomplishment. Harry had gotten paler as the winter went on anyway. That's what you got when you barely leave the house. Unless you're John whose skin was probably permanently tanned by the Australian sun.

John gestured to the sandwich next to him. "Food."

"I noticed," Harry remarked, sitting next to John. He stared at his sandwich.

"I don't care if you're not hungry." John pushed the plate towards him. "Eat."

"Sure thing, Hermione," Harry rolled his eyes. Hermione smiled. Great, now John was being compared to the second biggest mother hen he knew, the first of course being Mrs. Weasley who had at least stopped bothering him so much. She probably thought he had corrupted Harry or something. John thought it was probably true anyway. If he hadn't been there, pursued Harry, would Harry ever have even looked at another guy? Harry was oblivious to the world beyond the war.

Harry took a bite of the sandwich. Malfoy entered the kitchen from the basement.

"Would you like a sandwich?" Hermione asked. She was too polite. John had heard about the things Malfoy had said to her. If he was her, he would've hexed Malfoy, not offered him food.

Malfoy peered at her. "No," he said simply. He glanced at John before leaving the room.

"That was friendly," Hermione sighed.

Harry shrugged. "Give him a break. He just dealt with me for a few hours without resorting to shouting at me. And I think he may have seen too much in my mind of last night." John smirked. He didn't have to rub his relationship with Harry in if Malfoy got a sneak peak. But Harry looked torn between pity and embarrassment. Harry still resisted most forms of PDAs, never mind exhibitionism. Hmmm…maybe John could get Harry to make out with him in front of Malfoy to see how long the guy could take it. The chances were slim on that happening.

Suddenly there was a flurry of activity as Remus and some guy (for some strange reason John thought of cookies…Amos?) came running in. Cookie guy cast a patronus as Remus fumbled with the DA coin.

"There's an attack," Remus breathed, counting heads. "One of the headquarters." Hermione and Harry leapt up. Taking one last bite of his sandwich, John followed.

John attempted to push Harry back down. "No, you're dead on your feet." Harry glared, shoving John's hand off him. "Fine, but if you get yourself killed I'm not going to your funeral."

"Where are we going?" Harry asked. Remus glanced at him briefly. He had to see that Harry was drained already. Yet he probably knew it was useless to give Harry an order.

"Derry," Remus responded. He tossed a half eaten sandwich away and grabbed a plate, tapping it a few times with his wand. "A portkey. We have thirty seconds." Everyone grabbed the plate. What the hell? Harry took John's hand and placed it on the plate.

As they disappeared John remembered what a portkey was. They landed, ready to fight. But there was no one to fight. John saw the remains of a rather large house, the ominous Dark Mark glowing above it. John's forearm tingled. The house looked like it had been hit by a tornado. A few Order members were sifting through the wreckage, some limping. John spotted a body being attended to on his left. Letting go of the plate, he headed over to see who it was. John didn't know him. He must've been a new Order member. Welcome, John thought sarcastically.

"Oh, no." Hermione stood in the house, or at least in the debris, hands covering her mouth. Harry got there before him; he was closer. Harry's face went cold, making his drained face look almost ghostly.

John looked down. Katie Bell. And one of the older Weasleys. Charlie, maybe? Remus stood next to him, his hand traveling down his mouth. He looked so sad. Hadn't he taught Katie? John steeled himself, only allowing himself to see bodies.

"Hermione," Remus said softly. "Keep the Weasleys away." It was a good idea. Charlie seemed to have bled out. It was messy. The Weasleys didn't need to see him right now. Hermione didn't either. John remembered the night of Moody's death when Harry had shielded the body from Hermione's view. Remus turned to Harry. "Go home, Harry." His voice was still soft. Harry didn't look up from the bodies.

"I've seen dead people before, Remus," he said, voice calm.

Remus and John exchanged looks. "It's not that," Remus tried. "We have to clean up here. John's right. You're dead on your feet."

Harry was going to argue but even he had to admit defeat sometimes. He nodded, glancing towards the Weasleys. Mrs. Weasley was sobbing into her husband's shoulder as Hermione broke the news. "I'll get them to go home," Harry said. His eyes traveled briefly back to the bodies before looking at John. "I'm fine. Help out here."

"I go where you go," John stated. Remus smiled ever so slightly.

"Yeah, well, it's an order," Harry responded, voice hard. An order? Did Harry really think that John followed orders he didn't like. "Try being in this war for something else besides me. Even Malfoy is fighting for the right reasons."

John's eyebrows rose. Harry was trying to hit at John's possessiveness to keep him from following. But Harry had actually hit at something else. John often asked himself why a good person like Harry was with him, who cared about nothing but himself. Maybe John could prove that he was something more even if he didn't think so.

"Fine," John responded. "But don't get used to it." He expected an eye roll, anything really, but he got nothing. John watched him go.

"You're not staying because he ordered you to, are you?" Remus asked, covering the bodies with sheets he had conjured.

John shrugged. "I'm gonna try out the whole be a better person thing. See how it fits, you know?"

Remus shook his head. "You're a better person than you think."

* * *

><p>John was tired by the time he got back. Remus had conjured stretchers for the bodies. As John was the least bothered by dead people (especially people he knew), he had been on body hauling duty. Then he was asked to burn down the rest of the house.<p>

As he worked, the story became clearer. It wasn't just Death Eaters this time, but also two giants. Actual giants. John wondered how long they would take to burn. Everyone at headquarters had fought but they were taken off guard. Charlie Weasley died protecting Katie. Martyrs the lot of them.

John made it to the bedroom, half expecting Harry to be in the shower attempting to either drown himself or burn his skin. He wasn't really sure which one Harry went for. But judging by the fact Harry liked warm things (like fire and John) he was guessing burn.

Instead, John found Harry sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed. He guessed it was too much to hope that he would be sleeping. Harry glanced up as John entered.

"How many?" Harry didn't have to say anything more.

"Three." John threw his jacket off. "Mrs. Malfoy took care of the wounded." Harry nodded, looking back down. Slytherin's locket sat in front of him.

"It's not talking to you is it?" John asked, hoping for a smile, as he sat on the end of the bed, mimicking Harry's position.

"No," Harry responded, voice still calm. John didn't like this calm. "I kind of wish it would though. It could tell me where the other Horcruxes are." They hadn't spoken about the Horcruxes for a while but there wasn't much they could do. They agreed that one was at Hogwarts and Nagini would have to be the last one to be destroyed. That left one more. And they had no leads. "The longer I wait, the longer this war lasts."

John studied Harry. "This war would last anyway. You're not ready to face him."

"Says who?" Harry snapped. Finally something other than calm.

John just looked at him. Harry glared. What? Was he being blamed for calling it like it was?

Harry sighed. He rubbed at his eyes. He looked exhausted. The calm was gone. Now, he was just plain depressed. Normally John would want calm over depressed but at least this way Harry wasn't being stoic or emotionless. John hated emotionless Harry. It was like an aberration. The Harry he knew wore his heart on his sleeve.

"I need to be ready," Harry finally said. "I'll get Hermione and Malfoy to duel with me as much as I can. They're here all the time anyway." Harry had fully accepted Malfoy into the DA already. He ignored his hatred for Malfoy for the sake of the war, though John thought that Harry no longer hated Malfoy, just disliked him. John liked the hatred better. "Then the Occlumency lessons may help me with wandless magic, too." Now Harry was just thinking things out. John was only here as an excuse for Harry to talk out loud. "But this war…I feel like I'm fighting it blind. I don't know what Voldemort's doing, what he's planning. I never thought of his plans beyond taking over the Ministry and Hogwarts. Dumbledore always knew what to do."

John rolled his eyes. "Dumbledore was over a century old." That didn't seem to change Harry's mind. "And he had an advantage. He knew my father."

"I know him, too," Harry interrupted.

"Dumbledore saw Voldemort in the makings. If you want to know about someone, it's how they become it that's important," John tried to explain. "And do you really think he'd know what to do at this point? Voldemort isn't winning. He's won." Harry glared. "Think about it Harry. The only thing he has left to accomplish is to kill you and with you any resistance. We're not fighting a war anymore. We're fighting the people in power."

Harry said nothing. John wasn't sure if he actually understood. To Harry, as long as there was fighting, the war continued. But John thought differently. He knew war was just one type of struggle. Magneto called the mutant and human struggle a war but it wasn't, not yet. John didn't know what it was but it was a thing onto itself. When the government itself started attacking mutants, then it would become a war.

"Harry," John continued gently. "You can't be someone you're not. You're seventeen. I know you think that means nothing, but it means that you're not all knowing. You fight as you go and make decisions because it feels right. Yeah, you're not Dumbledore but I rather follow Harry Potter than Albus Dumbledore any day."

Harry gave a small smile. "That's because you think Dumbledore manipulated me. Besides, you'd be infuriated by his calm, wise approach." He paused. "Do you really follow me?"

John raised his eyebrows. "I thought I made it clear earlier. Where you go I go. I even took an order from you today."

"It probably suited your own purposes," Harry said offhandedly. And then he was serious again. "We can't accomplish anything if we don't know what we're resisting. If we don't know where to show up to fight. We need information." Where was Harry going with this? Harry paused, looking at him closely. He wet his lips. "Listen, I think I could get into Voldemort's head. I mean I already do. Maybe with Malfoy's help I can learn how to do it on purpose."

John didn't have to think. "No way in hell. I don't care if it gets you information. No fucking way."

"You really don't have a say," Harry said defensively.

"Really?" John shook his head. "You don't get it do you? That man's mind? His dreams get you upset. What do you think you'll find in his mind? You don't want into some people's minds, Harry. Some minds are so messed up, so crooked that being in them is a nightmare."

Harry watched him curiously. "Did you get this from Xavier?"

"No." John was going to tell it like it was. "If my mind's messed up, I can't imagine what you'll see in my father's."

"You're mind's not messed up."

"The first thing I think about anytime something new shows up is how well or how long it would take to burn." John tried to make Harry understand. "Harry, what kind of person sees the body of someone they know and doesn't feel a thing? How many people do you know who feel no remorse for killing? Whatever it takes. I think about survival. And do you wanna know what? At Malfoy Manor, that hall full of Death Eaters I killed, it felt good."

He continued to watch John but didn't say anything more. Did he finally get it, what kind of man John was? But, no, Harry would never get it because either he was blinded either by his faith that good people outnumbered bad or by his love for John. "Johnny, none of that makes me think you're mind's messed up. In one sense or another, you're a soldier. And you're stronger than all of us."

They sat in silence for a few moments. "Do you really think that Voldemort's mind is too dangerous to enter? It's not just because you want to protect some sort of innocence you think I have?"

"If someone else were to enter his mind, I wouldn't care if it was dangerous. Besides, the connection goes both ways, doesn't it? What if he catches on to what you're doing."

"Like with Sirius," Harry finished for him. He sighed. "Do you have another option? I mean a spy would be optimal but we don't have anyone for the job. Malfoy already betrayed them. And he would never go for it." Again he was thinking out loud. And though John listened, he just thought of something himself. "Dumbledore said Snape is on our side but he's too deep to get in contact with anyway. Plus, he's given us no reason to trust him."

"You're forgetting someone," John told him. "Someone everyone would expect it from."

Harry stared at him. "No." He practically launched himself off the bed, hand running through his hair. "No, you're not going. You think I can't go into Voldemort's mind? You can't go there. What do you think it would do to you? You'd get lost. You'd really become Pyro."

"I _am_ Pyro," John said. He didn't get up but he moved to the edge of the bed, watching Harry pace. He knew Harry wasn't going to like it. But who else did they have?

"No, you're John," Harry responded quickly. "Pyro's the guy I constantly have to hold back from hurting someone."

"Trust me, I don't want to go. I don't like being away from you a few hours let alone days at a time. But come on, think about it Harry," John tried again, trying to meet Harry's eyes. Harry would have none of it, but John was going to keep trying. He told Remus he was trying out being a better man. That meant sacrifice. "My father himself said I have potential."

"And then he tortured you."

John ignored the interruption. "People already think of me as a loose cannon. They don't trust me and they never will. They expect betrayal. I don't have to pretend to agree with some of his views because I can actually agree with them. And I have enough charm, hatred, power, and brains to move up the ranks. My father was fascinated by me. Actually interested. I stand a chance. The only reason he tortured me was because of my loyalty to you."

'That's another thing." Harry stopped pacing. "Just as many people that don't trust you know that you're loyal to me. Our relationship isn't exactly a secret. Not even how serious it is. How do we erase all that? How do we make people think that you not only lost loyalty to me, but you turned against me?"

"Easy," John finally caught Harry's eyes. "You break my heart."

A.N. So the whole John looking younger than he is…while Pyro looked the appropriate age in the movie, I was always amused that Aaron Stanford was _26_ in X2 and _29_ in X3. Talk about looking young for his age.


	35. Scripted Betrayal

_Mutant Son_

A.N. Again thanks so much for the reviews, those continuing to read this, and to those still adding this to their alerts and favorites lists. I'm sorry for separating the boys but this was the direction the story has always been going. With things that I'm keeping out of the story from DH, Harry needs a way to come by necessary information. And did you really think that the story could continue as it was? Harry, John, and Hermione the new Golden Trio. It definitely would not fit Pyro. So this chapter is shorter than others but the series of events needed are complete.

**Chapter 35: Scripted Betrayal**

"Are you sure you know what you are getting into, St. John?" Xavier asked gently, looking over at the lounging figure of his old student.

John sighed, looking at a painting over Xavier's head. "Yes."

"Excuse me for saying," Xavier continued. "But this is one thing I would have never expected from you."

"That's not exactly true, is it?" John asked, flicking open his lighter. "You'd expect me to go all dark on you, but for different reasons."

Xavier didn't answer immediately. He didn't have to. John knew what people thought of him, even people who liked him like the Professor. "Yes, I know what you are capable of," the Professor admitted. "But I know that you would only, how did you word it, 'go all dark' on me if you felt as if you were backed against the wall." Xavier calmly looked into his eyes. "I am also aware, however, that you are always capable of surprising me."

"But you don't think I'm capable of this."

"I used to hope for a peaceful life for you." There were connotations there. If John led a peaceful life, he wouldn't run the chance of being backed against the wall. Of becoming a danger. Xavier seemed to follow his thoughts. "You have so little confidence in yourself, in the fact that you've slowly grown into your own person. I've watched you calm, shall I say, as you've grown older."

"I'm not as angry as I was," John filled in.

"You've always been bright," Xavier confirmed. "I wonder quite often whether one day you will be ready to join the X-Men." John's eyebrows must've flown up into his hair. That was certainly unexpected. "To be honest, after Alkali I monitored your thoughts quite closely." John glared. "I never went into your mind, but you project, you see. I saw when you made your decision. When you decided you would not go looking for Magneto, that you could not quite agree with what he was doing. At least under current conditions. Stryker's attack and the incident at the Drake's temporarily convinced you that we were at war. But as you often prove, on the rare occasion you think something through, you recognize the right thing even if you only occasionally act on it." Xavier smiled. "What I am trying to say is that I am not surprised you are fighting for Albus's cause. I am only surprised at the level of your sacrifice."

"Not Dumbledore's cause," John interjected.

"Ah yes, you would never have gotten along with Albus," Xavier looked fond. Of John or of his old friend? "He did indeed manipulate events, people. But he also cared for that boy."

John snapped his lighter shut, leaning forward. "Don't tell me about what that man cared for. Who puts the weight of the world on the shoulders of a kid?"

Xavier shook his head. "But Harry isn't a kid, is he?"

"Not anymore," John returned. "Listen, I don't want to sit here all day. I want you to do as I ask and let me go."

Xavier sighed. "I don't know if I can comfortably let you go. You are still my student and I do not want to see you hurt. This is dangerous."

John rolled his eyes, leaning back again impatiently. "I know it's dangerous. And I know what I'm doing. I'm the only one that can do this." He looked away for a moment, trying to calm himself down. He wanted Xavier to stop treating him like a student. No, he needed it. How did Scott manage to escape that role? John thought about it. Scott was honest. He didn't try to hide things from Xavier. He didn't hide things. John sighed, looking back at the Professor. "I'm asking you for help. Let me do this."

"For Harry?" Xavier questioned. That was it, wasn't it? It wasn't that Xavier didn't want him to do this. He wanted him to do it for the right reasons.

John looked at his lighter. "Yes." He continued before Xavier could speak. "But not only. I'm trying to be a better man. My mom ditched me, my dad told me I was a piece of crap, that I was my mother's child. My whole life I thought it was genetic. That I was born wrong. But I'm not my mother. I'm not my dad because, hell, he isn't even my dad. And my father? I sure as hell know I'm not him. If I was, Harry couldn't love me."

"And it is clear that he does." He moved his wheelchair closer to John. "I need to put my hands to your head. I can create a shield around your mind. Only thoughts you want to be seen will be seen." John looked at him gratefully. "Just make sure you tell Harry that, the next time you need saving, he should trust us."

John rolled his eyes halfheartedly. "You can't tell Harry anything when he's on a mission. He's gotta do things they way most likely to get him killed." He swallowed. "Uh, just don't tell Bobby. He'd kill me. Or Harry. You know how he is."

Xavier smiled as he placed his hands to John's head. John closed his eyes. This wasn't going to be fun. He hated people in his head and now he was giving permission to Xavier to mess with it. But John had to do this. If he was going in, John wouldn't fail.

* * *

><p>"You're distracted," Malfoy complained after he entered into Harry mind for the fifth time. "But you're not doing all that bad," he admitted. "I don't know why you're distracted. All I know is that it has something to do with your boyfriend."<p>

Harry sighed, from where he ended up on the floor. "Are we done then? How much more can you take?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Just leave. Do whatever it is that will get him out of your system and find me tomorrow." He left without saying anything more.

Harry didn't get up right away. He got lucky. He had no idea how he managed to keep Malfoy from knowing about the plan but somehow he did. Maybe if Malfoy found out, they'd be forced to ditch the plan. But, no, John was adamant about doing this. It was as if he thought he was proving something. Harry had no idea what. Asking John wouldn't get him anything and Harry couldn't go to Hermione. If they did this, it was only between Harry and John. They couldn't risk John's cover. They couldn't put anyone else in danger either.

Harry hated this. He didn't want to put John in danger and, though he would never admit it to John, he didn't even know if John could handle it. The guilt for even feeling that way weighed on him almost as much as everything else. Harry leaned back against the wall. He was going to stay here for a while. Being with John couldn't calm him down anymore now that Harry knew that, in one way or another, he was going to lose him. Harry knew that John wouldn't fail to infiltrate the Death Eater ranks. If he wanted to, John could effectively play murdering sociopath. John wasn't exactly well-balanced to begin with. Again the guilt of that thought made Harry feel even worse. What if John didn't come back?

His thoughts continued to circle around as he thought about the same things over and over again. He couldn't do this. He'd rather get lost in Voldemort's mind than allow John to turn spy, but Harry didn't even know whether he could get into Voldemort's mind. What was Harry willing to risk for the good of the wizarding world? Was this what Dumbledore felt like? He couldn't feel any resentment towards Dumbledore right now. If Harry was willingly letting John sacrifice himself, then how could he resent Dumbledore for playing a few games with Harry? Dumbledore may have cared for Harry but that couldn't compare to how Harry felt about John.

The door to the kitchen opened. Harry listened as the footsteps paused at the bottom of the stairs. He looked up to see John. Harry sat up, looking at his watch. It was later than he thought.

"Did he do it?" Harry asked as he stood.

John only looked around the room. "Where's Malfoy?"

Harry shrugged as he went to John. "Either questioning his sanity or taking a cold shower." John didn't even look amused by the thought, but he was clearly distracted. "So did the Professor do it?"

John nodded. "Yeah, after some convincing." He paused, looking incredulous over something. "Did you know he thinks that I might be an X-Man some day?"

Of course that would make him incredulous. "No, but I'm not exactly surprised."

"That makes one of us." They stood in silence for a little while. John studied him. Harry knew he didn't look too good. "There's no turning back," John told him. "I'm doing this. You'll just have to go along with it."

Harry sighed. "I'll do what has to be done," he muttered. Isn't that what he had told the DA? What he promised himself he'd do to win this war?

"Damn right," John grinned. He was trying to make Harry smile but nothing was going to make him smile right now. "Come on, we have only a few days left. Don't be like that…baby."

"Don't call me baby," Harry rolled his eyes.

"One day you'll fold."

"Fat chance," Harry went to move past him and up the stairs.

John sighed, apparently giving up. "Harry." He turned back. "How are you going to break my heart?"

"I haven't thought about it," Harry admitted slowly. "We have time, don't we?"

"The longer we wait, the harder it'll be," John told him. Harry wouldn't look at him. He had hoped to delay it but John had called him on it.

"Let me guess, you have an idea."

"Yeah," John looked down. Whatever it was, he wasn't happy about it. That meant it would be convincing. "You're gonna cheat on me."

"With who?" Harry's eyebrows furrowed. John just looked at him. It hit him. "No. Come on, John. Stop doing this to me. At least choose someone else."

"Who? Hermione?" But John wasn't challenging him, not bullying him as he usually would. Harry could see how much John hated this. It would be so much easier if he didn't.

"I won't have sex with him," Harry glared.

"I'm not telling you to," John shot back as calmly as he could. "You just need to go far enough that your intentions seem clear. That's what I'll need to see."

"So I'm going to have to what? Seduce him?" Harry finally brushed past him and into the kitchen. John followed closely after him. They passed Hermione as John practically chased after him towards their room. She tried asking what was wrong but Harry ignored her. John brushed past her as he called out to Harry.

John caught the door before Harry could shut it. It closed behind him roughly. "Harry you can do this," he insisted as Harry stood in the middle of the room at a loss. John didn't go to him. "The sooner this war is over, the sooner I'll be back. I know whatever you do with Malfoy means shit."

Harry took a breath. John was right. They had to finish this. He couldn't stop John. And half of him didn't want to. They needed any information they could get and no one could do a better job than John. And John was at least more creative than Snape. He would always figure out a way to get Harry the information he needed. It was time to stop being selfish. All the attention he focused on John could be turned back towards the war. And John and Harry would still be a team. Only no one would know. He finally came to terms with it. John wouldn't die. He always survived. Harry had to trust that John was strong enough not to lose himself. He did trust that.

"I don't know how," Harry said dully. John seemed surprised by his change in attitude. Harry looked at him. "In case you don't remember, you did all the seducing."

"You initiated the first kiss," John told him.

"Hardly seduction," Harry argued. "What do I do?" John laughed. His hand went over his mouth as he shook his head. Harry glared.

"Sorry," John said as he pulled it back together. "It's just…" John grinned again. "You just reminded me of Bobby. I have to walk him through half of this kind of crap." Funny, Harry didn't think Bobby had any faults. That probably wasn't fair. "Though I guess this is different, huh?" Harry nodded.

"It won't be that hard, I swear," John continued. "We know Malfoy wants you."

"He also knows I'm not interested," Harry reminded him.

John rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "You're worse than Bobby. Seriously. The guy won't be thinking if you do your job right. All he's going to think is that he's about to get lucky."

"What if he says no?"

John rolled his eyes again. "Not every guy is as stand-up as you and Bobby."

"Okay, then," Harry sat on the bed. "Just walk me through it then. What do I do?"

John looked at him for a moment. "You're gonna have to do the seducing," he told him. "_But_ he'll have to feel like the 'man'." John rolled his eyes. Harry looked at him curiously. "It's how he excuses his sexuality," John explained.

Harry stared at him. "_How_ do you know stuff like this?" John's smile was bitter. "Oh, never mind." He guessed John's, uh, experience made him the perfect person to ask for instructions on seducing someone you had absolutely no interest in. "So how do I…well how do I do that? You know, be the seducer without making him feel unmanly or something? Malfoy's a lunatic by the way." John seemed to agree.

"Come on strong," John told him. He looked at Harry. "For example…." John stood over Harry before straddling him, kissing him strongly. Harry's hand automatically went to his back as he kissed back. John broke away. "He'll be surprised so be even more obvious," he muttered. He kissed Harry again, pushing his hand down between them, groping Harry's crotch. Was he supposed to be taking notes because, at this point, Harry didn't even know whether he would even be able to remember? "Go from there," John muttered. "And now…now it's just us. Forget about everything until the morning." Harry was fine with that. He maneuvered John so that he was flat on his back, arching up to push his body's into Harry's. Harry did his best not to think about tomorrow. Not to think that in a day or two, he and John would no longer be doing this.

* * *

><p>Tomorrow's Occlumency lesson. That's when Harry was going to do it. Not even twenty-four hours from now. They had reviewed the plan over and over again, from the specifics of Harry breaking his heart, to getting into Malfoy Manor, and finally to how they'd communicate. John figured they could set the place and day for their first meeting before naming the next one. He didn't tell Harry, but there was a good chance meeting wouldn't last long. Hiding notes in specific locations would be safer. As it was they were already about to go two months without seeing each other (at least not as enemies). Harry Potter couldn't suddenly gain knowledge to Voldemort's secrets suspiciously near the time his ex-boyfriend joined the ranks. John's cover would be blown within weeks.<p>

It was late and Harry was finally sleeping. He had tossed and turned for hours before he fell asleep. John had dozed off after him but now he was awake watching Harry. Normally John would get out of bed and have a cigarette, occasionally a cup of tea but tonight was the last night in who knew how long he'd be sharing a bed with Harry. So he wasn't getting up. He was just going to sit there.

"I can feel you watching me," Harry yawned, eyes opening. John didn't respond. "How long have you been awake?"

"Don't know. A while," John turned over onto his back, looking up at the ceiling.

"And the room doesn't smell like cigarettes?" Harry tried to joke, but his voice fell flat. John turned his head and met Harry's eyes. "You don't have to do this. We can just forget about it."

John shook his head. "It's done, Harry. This time tomorrow, I'm knocking on my father's door." Harry didn't say anything. It was clear that he didn't expect anything different. In so many ways this was unfair to Harry but it was what was necessary. Harry kept losing people and John never planned to be one of those people. But tomorrow they had to act like he was. John had to pretend to betray Harry, to betray Hermione and Remus. And though he wouldn't actually, no one but Harry would know that. But even knowing that, Harry wouldn't be any better off.

"I'm going to end it," Harry promised. But John already knew he would.

"And after that everything will be back to normal," John promised in return. He gave Harry a small grin. "Better than normal actually because then the war will be over. We won't be stuck in this house. We'll be able to think of non-war things for once. You won't have to be Harry Potter." John hoped that last part wasn't a lie. "We'll move out of this house." John was really getting to hate this house.

"We could go to New York," Harry added. John looked at him for a moment. Harry never thought beyond the war, never allowed himself to. All this, then, was a dream they were creating. But John was a writer. He knew all about dreams.

"Sure," John agreed. "You and Bobby can team up against me. He'll try to make me go to college. I'll refuse. Work on cars or something. And you…do you even have any marketable skills? You know without the wand. Because after this you're leaving the wizarding world. At least for a while."

Harry smiled, a little tired. "Well the school of Dursley left me pretty unskilled in anything not involving domestic servitude."

"We'll get the Professor to hire you to clean or garden or something," John grinned back. "Or you and Scott can co-teach the fearless hero class."

"If only Hogwarts had a class like that. Could've helped."

John stared at him. "Do you want to be more fearless or more heroic? Either would get you a lifetime sentence to the psychward. You'd be saving ants from children and running into tornadoes to save a cow."

Harry laughed. "I think you already need that psychward. You're right. You're mind _is_ messed up." John smiled as Harry yawned, moving closer and lying his head close to Harry's.

John felt Harry still. "Don't think. Just go to sleep. You think too much."

"Hermione always tells me I don't think enough," Harry turned his head towards John, eyes closing.

"That's circumstantial," John whispered as his eyes also closed. Just a few more hours.

* * *

><p>Malfoy practically growled in frustration. "You're worse than you were earlier in the week. Do you have even an ounce of self control? Bloody Gryffindors."<p>

If only Malfoy knew why Harry couldn't concentrate. Harry was waiting for the established time to pretend to seduce him. To use him really. And Harry was running out of time because, any minute, Malfoy could come across their plan. So Harry took a breath.

"How about we do something else?" Harry suggested, keeping his voice even. If he kept his voice neutral he could come off as perfectly confident. John had told him that was important. Malfoy wasn't attracted to the nervous, unsure him.

Malfoy looked at him peculiarly. "Like what?"

Harry shrugged. "Have some fun," he said as he walked towards Malfoy. He looked suspicious as Harry approached but he didn't move, even as Harry got uncomfortably close.

"Potter, what are you doing?" Malfoy asked, his eyes traveling to Harry's lips. This wouldn't be so hard. Harry didn't have to feel awkward. He didn't have to do much to get Malfoy interested. So Harry didn't respond, leaning in to kiss him. His lips met Malfoy's. Malfoy didn't respond. John said that could happen. But Harry wasn't comfortable just groping him.

Harry deepened the kiss, pushing his body against Malfoy's and slipping his finger into the waistband of Malfoy's pants. Finally Malfoy responded. He kissed back forcefully, hands traveling to Harry's hips. This is where Harry let Malfoy take control. He thought of it critically, play by play because he didn't want to really think about he was doing. And no way did he ever want to enjoy it even if Malfoy was a decent kisser. Nothing compared to John though.

Malfoy made a sudden movement, pushing Harry back into the table until Harry was almost seated on it. He was moving quickly, John had said that Malfoy wouldn't need to think about it. He would take advantage of the situation. Malfoy broke the kiss and started unbuttoning Harry's shirt, kissing exposed skin as he went. John better come in soon, Harry thought as Malfoy moved for his pants. But it had to go farther, John was clear on that. So Harry pulled Malfoy's sweater over his head. Malfoy pushed Harry further back onto the table so that Harry was almost lying down. He placed a knee between Harry's legs before bringing his body over his. Malfoy's hand moved into Harry's pants. Harry closed his eyes. Where was John? Harry hissed as Malfoy cupped him. Harry's stomach dropped.

The timing couldn't be better. The door to the kitchen opened and John came jogging down the stairs. "Hey, Harry…" he paused. The look on his face was convincing. Malfoy paused in what he was doing but didn't move away. John looked at him, eyes dark before turning around. Harry pushed Malfoy off of him.

"John, wait," Harry shouted after him, quickly following after him. Before he left the room he saw Malfoy lying flat on his back on the table eyes closed. Great, now he felt bad about that, too.

Harry had to jog to catch up with John. Front hall. Nice and non-private. John spun around. Malfoy wouldn't tell anybody what happened and Hermione and Remus would never believe that Harry cheated on him. They had to pretend here that this was just a fight. The incident with Malfoy would pay off later at Malfoy Manor. They were establishing layer upon layer of deceit, providing a reason for John's betrayal which would make sense to everybody. Even if the reason was different from group to group.

John stared at Harry for a moment. He looked hurt. Harry realized that John hadn't thought about what seeing Harry and Malfoy together would feel like. It had to feel terrible. Just hearing about John cheating on him had felt terrible, and that was before Harry was actually in love with him.

Harry swallowed. "Why don't you just leave!" he yelled.

"Yeah, see how long you can last without me, Harry!" John shouted back. "You need me to make the tough decisions for you." Harry heard doors open, heard footsteps.

"No," Harry's voice got lower but he kept up the intensity. They had an audience now. "I just need you to be with me. I just need you to be more than sex." To the Order, John would have to break Harry's heart. They would believe it, expect it maybe. John had to be the bad guy.

John stepped closer. He slammed Harry into the wall, pinning his wrists down. This was risky; someone could step in. But no one did. Maybe they knew Harry could take care of himself. Maybe they were in shock. "But don't you see? That is exactly what this is about. You're a good fuck. All I had to do was say that I care and you spread your legs for me. Tell you that I love you and you let me do oh so much more." Harry closed his eyes, trying to tug his hands away. John tightened his grip. "Come on, Harry. You know I know exactly how to work people to get what I want. Poor love starved orphan. You weren't exactly hard to figure out."

Harry finally broke away, putting on his best glare. "I bet I wasn't," he growled. He took a step towards John. "Not for a whore like you." John's mouth snapped shut. This was all pre-planned but the words still hurt. They knew exactly how to hurt each other. Who knew they were ever going to use that to write a script. "Why do you really hate muggles, John? Is it because of all the things you had to do for them? Are you scared of them? What they will do to you for being a mutant." This was it.

"I'm scared of nothing," John told him. Even his voice was like fire. "You fight for people beneath you, treat them as equals. But they're not. They're obsolete. They're the enemy. And they deserve to burn." He smirked. "I fought this war because I was on your side. Well, guess what? I'm not on your side anymore. I am a god. What are you? A little boy trying to play hero." John's eyes passed over Harry to the small crowd behind him. "You'll lose," he told them. "And I don't lose." He turned, grabbing a jacket as he stormed out, slamming the door behind him. The noise traveled through Harry.

He turned around. Remus, Hermione, Tonks, the twins, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Mrs. Malfoy, and Malfoy who was studying Harry closely. It was the perfect group of people to see this. Sending them one last look, he breezed past them and ran upstairs. He leaned on the bedroom door as it closed behind him. It was done. He didn't want to think about tomorrow when everyone would realize John wasn't coming back, when Hermione would corner him to talk. He grabbed the lamp off the desk and threw it across the room.

* * *

><p>"My Lord." Lucius Malfoy bowed before Lord Voldemort, eyes intently focused on the floor.<p>

"What is it Lucius?" Voldemort asked from his place in front of the fireplace. Nagini was curled up at his feet. As he often did, he was thinking about killing Harry Potter.

"Your son, my lord," Lucius continued quickly. Voldemort turned his head to look at him.

"What about him?" His voice was calm but the disdain was clear.

"He's here," Lucius responded, looking up. "He just showed up outside the gates. He asked to speak to you. Demanded it."

Voldemort looked curious. He couldn't help but think about the possibilities. "Bring him in," he ordered.

Lucius nodded, practically fleeing the room. There was a time when the man's arrogant aristocratic air irritated him. Now Voldemort almost missed it even if he did enjoy watching the man crumble before him. It didn't make for a good servant.

The doors swung open. Pyro strolled in. Like he belonged. Like he was completely unworried about the wands of his escorts pointed at his back. He looked straight into his father's eyes. Arrogance and anger.

"You are a fool to return," Voldemort stated, absentmindedly petting Nagini whose eyes focused on Pyro. Voldemort couldn't help but be pleased, however. He had a feeling things were about to go his way.

"No," Pyro responded, staring at the fire. Voldemort waited to see what he would do. The fire flared dangerously, barely missing Voldemort's robes. "Only practical. I want to join you." Voldemort studied him before pushing into his mind. He saw Potter. He saw Potter beneath the Malfoy boy. He felt anger. Hatred. And he smiled. Who knew the ever heroic Potter would be so stupid. He had just lost a very powerful ally.

"You no longer serve Potter," he stated.

Pyro glared. "I no longer help him."

"How about your words from before?" Voldemort's eyes settled on Pyro's. Pyro did not look away. A confident boy. So much potential he had thought, despite his younger weaknesses, the heights he had lowered himself to, and his disgusting mutant blood. Voldemort had thought that potential lost. But not so. Pyro would be his greatest Death Eater. "Am I not pathetic for attacking those who can't fight back? The _humans_ as you call them."

"Yeah, well, I've decided to stop pretending to be what I'm not. To do what the Professor and then Harry held me back from doing for years." Pyro's eyes traveled to the fire again before returning to his. "I'm gonna make the world burn."

Voldemort smiled. His son was unfazed. Yes, so much potential. "Welcome to the Death Eaters, my son."

Pyro looked back at the others, eyebrows raised. "Lower your wands before I burn them to ash." They looked at Voldemort before doing as Pyro said. Bellatrix stepped forward from where she had been observing. Pyro grinned as he saw her. "You've healed nicely."

She studied him as she got closer. Her hand moved to his face. Voldemort watched curiously. He knew an obsessed Bellatrix when he saw one. Pyro stood his ground, looking amused. She smiled. "Little Pyro come to join his daddy."

"Not so little," he told her. He turned from her, looking back at his father. "So, where am I staying?"


	36. Playing the Part

_Mutant Son_

A.N. I really love these reviews coming in and take great pleasure when someone states that this story should be getting more reviews. It's sort of a boost to my ego which of course makes me continue. Shorter chapter again but unlike a chapter or two ago, there's a clear stopping point. Also a warning for a potentially disturbing sexual relationship...don't want to give anything away though.

**Chapter 36: Playing the Part **

John really didn't get the whole stone walls and floors thing. It was winter and this place was cold. And John had shared a room with an ice mutant for years. For a while, Bobby even had issues controlling his power in his sleep, so John knew cold. But it would eventually stop. The only time this cold stopped was when John was around fire. Being around fire, however, meant he had to be around the other Death Eaters who were all either unhinged or ridiculously pompous and privileged. He hated pompous people because they usually had something he didn't, often money and a cozy life. John hated things he didn't have, and the people who had them.

John was especially avoiding Bellatrix. He had thought that her fascination with him would have turned into rage and hatred after he nearly burned her to death. But she had to be unhinged. She had taken to actually flirting with him, trying to seduce him of all things. Back in May, John probably would've considered it if it suited his purposes. Yeah, she was a lot older than him, not to mention a woman, but she was beautiful, even if she was a bit worn out looking. And frankly, he had had sex with people a lot older (even if he was paid for it) and for more reasons than just attraction. But the idea of sex with her actually made him feel sick now. He knew what kind of woman she was, what she had done to people, done to Harry. John had told Xavier that he was trying to be a better person. He had always recognized depravity in people but now he was repulsed by it. In a way he had once feared he would even end up like Bellatrix. Talk about high expectations.

He tried a door. It was open and the room appeared empty for a moment. But no such luck. A man sat in an armchair near the fireplace. He was wearing all black (not exactly uncommon, even John had taken to wearing all black. It at least made people less weary of his muggle attire) and had exceedingly greasy hair. It was like 'need a shower' greasy, not greaser greasy which at least looked kind of cool.

The man looked up as John opened the door. John didn't leave though he wanted to. Pyro didn't back down. He intruded. He annoyed. In other words, he was John with a slightly worse attitude. John sat in the other armchair, staring at the fire. He made it flare. On, off. On, off. On, off.

"I assume then that you are Pyro," greasy man said. His voice was soft but it caught your attention. John didn't look at him.

"Bravo," John said dryly. "You've realized that the new guy who controls fire is Pyro. Gold star. Really." He finally glanced at the man. He knew who this was. "Severus Snape, right?"

Snape gave a nod of his head. "So you've heard of me. I wonder, from your father or from your boyfriend."

John gave him a look. "Boyfriend. Fuck buddy. Lying bastard. Whatever you want to call him."

Snape returned his look. "I see. I did hear that your sudden change of loyalties occurred because he cheated on you."

"He betrayed me," John responded. "So I betrayed him. Harry is just a little boy who likes to play hero. Besides sex he has nothing more to offer." He had used the same phrase when fighting with Harry but John was quite proud of it even if it tasted wrong in his mouth. Harry _was_ a hero. Unfortunately. "Speaking of loyalty…where do you stand?" The man didn't respond so John smirked. "Come on. I don't care really. You can tell me. I have no real loyalty to my father. He's just a means to an end."

"Very Slytherin," Snape commented. "Though I thought that my loyalties were made clear when I killed Albus Dumbledore."

"The way dear old Albus tells it, he asked you to do it." John's smirk didn't leave as he returned to the fire.

"My loyalty is to your father," Snape also turned to the fire. "How can it not be when he is the only one willing to put muggles and mudbloods in their proper place?"

John turned to him again. "And what is my place? I'm a mutant, not a wizard."

"You're place is at your father's side, as the final heir of Slytherin. It is still in your blood."

"The Hogwarts wards, huh?" John grinned. "Pretty light show."

"The wards around your cell as well," Snape agreed. He looked at John curiously. "One thing that has escaped us is how you worked that. Even as his son, the wards shouldn't have recognized you as the Dark Lord."

John shrugged. "Looks like Harry is smarter than you think. He mixed his blood with mine."

"Ah, yes," Snape looked mildly impressed. "The resurrection ceremony. That boy always was lucky."

"That boy is a threat," John commented. He pulled a flame to him. It flickered in front of him, creating shadows over his face. "He's proven that. Relationship or not, I wouldn't have stood by his side if he wasn't."

"Relationship?" Snaped asked. He was digging for information. John and Harry had discussed this. Either John would come across as proud, denying his feelings, or he would admit to it, making the betrayal worse.

"I loved him," John said viciously.

"But no longer."

John let the fire in his hand flare. "Now I hate him as much as I love him."

"A dangerous combination to be sure." Snape seemed to be evaluating him. Was he evaluating him as a loyal Death Eater or as Dumbledore's man? Snape had never contacted the Order but he may have had some sort of end game. Instructions that Dumbledore never shared with Harry. It wouldn't be the first time.

"I've always been dangerous." John focused his entire attention on the flames before letting the fire go out. He grinned. Bobby always said that John could look dangerous and unbalanced when he wanted. He counted on that now even if it was possible that Bobby was only kidding. It was time to let loose his inner sociopath. He would make Rogue proud.

"I should warn you," Snape said lightly. "You are not the only one here dangerous."

"Is that a threat?" John asked amused.

"No, just a warning," Snape said surprised. "Bellatrix has taken a…liking to you."

"Yeah, I've noticed," John rolled his eyes. "I'm at least twenty years younger than her. That's approaching pedophilia."

Snape at least looked entertained. "Yes, well, I believe it is more your role as the Dark Lord's son. You see, she has an obsession with your father, perhaps loves him."

John made a face. "Fucking him would be like fucking an animal. It's the nose. Actually it's more than the nose."

Snape eyed him. "I believe that's what may be drawing her to you. You are the Dark Lord's son. You share the same lust for power. The same rage and hatred. Yet you are young and attractive."

"Deranged," John decided. He paused, not liking the idea in his head. He wouldn't go through with it. Probably.

* * *

><p>Remus stared into the flame. John had never returned, not even for his things. Remus worried, for the boy and for the cause. Had John just disappeared? Became the runaway again? Or had he done what he seemed to have suggested? Joined what he thought was the winning side? Remus wanted to believe the first but he knew it wasn't so. John had betrayed them and joined his father. Remus hadn't expected that a fight with Harry would spark that. But he couldn't lie. A small part of him, one that he had not known he still had, was not surprised.<p>

Tonks appeared, sitting beside him on the couch, very pregnant and very worried. That was no good for the baby. "He's joined him hasn't he?" she asked.

Remus nodded. "I believe so."

She sighed. "I just can't believe it. I mean I came to trust him. Then he breaks Harry's heart and runs off to join the bad guys, just about the worst thing he could do to Harry."

Remus looked at her. "So many of us had learned to trust him. Hermione hasn't even come out of her room to speak to Harry.'

"But I can't believe that fight did it," she shook her head. "I mean we saw a similar fight before. They said things to each other. Unforgivable things. And they still forgave. Became closer. I thought it would last. I thought Harry found someone who wouldn't leave him. Never willingly."

That hurt. Remus had thought so too. And now he couldn't even focus on what John's betrayal meant for the war. Right now it felt personal, beyond just what he did to Harry. "We have to be ready," he finally said.

"Fighting his fire will be hard."

"Then we aim for him," Remus decided, his voice resolute despite the sadness. "Incapacitate him." He thought for a moment. "Harry stands a chance of fighting the fire. He controlled fiendfyre. If anyone is capable it's Harry."

"Can he do it?" Tonks asked slowly, regretfully. "Can he face John?"

Remus sighed. "Yes. Harry will do what he has to. He always has even if in his own way."

"He shouldn't have to." Remus and Tonks turned to see Hermione entering the room.

"But shouldn't has no place in war," Tonks responded. Remus looked at her fondly. He risked everything and married this woman. She was far beyond her age in all the ways that counted.

Hermione nodded, grabbing an armchair. "I've tried speaking to Harry. He won't listen." She paused. "Malfoy's been asking about him."

Remus nodded. "Yes, I know."

Hermione closed her eyes. When she opened them, they shun in anger. "John…I knew it was possible but I hoped so much that he wouldn't fail Harry. I thought his feelings for Harry could be enough. But he always told us he was a bad guy. We should've listened."

"Most of the Order said it at one time or another," Tonks added. "They'll distrust Harry's instincts now. Or they'll pity him."

But Hermione didn't seem to hear her. "What gets me is that only weeks ago, someone told John not to make Harry fight him. John said he knew where his loyalties were. Did I ever know him at all?"

"Who told him this?" Remus asked curiously.

Hermione paused, debating something. "We went to see Grindelwald," she admitted. "I found a photo in Bathilda Bagshot's house of a young Grindelwald and Dumbledore together. Harry needed answers."

Remus hadn't known they were friends. "May I ask what you found out?" It seemed as if Dumbledore made it a habit to trust questionable people. Even his portrait seemed to like John. But then maybe the same could be said for Remus. He had trusted Peter, John, and even Snape, too.

"They were involved. Romantically I suppose," she sighed. "Dumbledore shared his views for a little while." Remus wasn't surprised. There was a reason the man fought so hard for muggles and muggleborns. Though he was surprised at their involvement. "Grindelwald seemed to like Harry. He was fascinated with his relationship with John as well."

"He warned John not to do the same thing to Harry that he did to Dumbledore," Tonks surmised. Hermione nodded.

The information wasn't quite important but it pulled Remus closer to Dumbledore. It made him human. He turned away from the discussion. "There's no doubt that John loves Harry."

"John doesn't know how to love," Hermione said viciously. "It worked out for him as long as it got him something."

"He loved Harry," Tonks asserted. "Perhaps you're too young to understand that love isn't always enough. John's life must've done too much damage. Damage that John couldn't overcome."

"That's no excuse," Hermione argued.

"It's not," Remus agreed. "But it's a reason. Something that could be at least understood." He turned again to the fire. "But there will be no John anymore. He'll only be Pyro. Even if John is still buried inside, we can't afford to hold back. He won't. Holding back will be a death sentence."

"I hate him," Hermione said, also looking at the fire. Remus studied her. Sometimes he forgot how young she was. John had betrayed more people than just Harry.

Tonks seemed to agree. "That's because you love him." Hermione turned towards her defensively. "Not in the same way as Harry, but as a friend."

Hermione's anger died down. "He was another person to take care of." She paused. "But he was also smart, mature. Someone I could turn to." She shook her head, tears appearing. "But if he ever goes for Harry, I will kill him myself." She meant it but Remus didn't think she was capable. They would find out.

* * *

><p>Harry was going to ignore the knocking but he knew it was about time to stop feeling bad for himself. To face Hermione despite the guilt of lying to her. Unfortunately, it wasn't Hermione at the door.<p>

"Do we really have to do this now?" Harry asked Malfoy tiredly.

"I think I deserve an explanation," Malfoy responded, stepping into the bedroom. He eyed John's stuff, still strewn around the room. "You used me." Harry's stomach dropped. "You used me to get back at Pyro." Relief. "I should've known you weren't really interested in me."

"No, I wasn't," Harry admitted.

Malfoy shook his head, looking away. "But you messed up," he turned back. "You drove your boy away and everyone thinks it was he who betrayed you."

"You have no idea what the deal was," Harry glared. He wouldn't let Malfoy judge him. Not Malfoy. "John was hurtful. He always was." There was truth to that but not nearly enough to matter.

"Trust Harry Potter to get into an abusive relationship," Malfoy snickered though it seemed forced.

"He didn't abuse me. He never touched me," Harry denied. Abuse was a sensitive subject.

"Verbal, you idiot."

"What?" Harry laughed. "You think he wasn't good enough for me or something?" Harry took a step forward, challenging him. "You think you can do better?"

Harry really should've expected it but he was still caught off guard. Malfoy pulled him into a rough kiss. But Harry recovered, shoving him away. "Stop," he snapped, wiping at his mouth.

"You weren't saying that last week," Malfoy responded. Harry could see the lust in his eyes.

"I was using you," Harry spit out. "The memory of you on me disgusts me. You were just convenient. Being with you would hurt John. That's the only reason I even let you touch me."

"I always knew you weren't as golden, as perfect as you wanted everyone to believe. It was what attracted me to you. That darkness, imperfection side by side with that goodness," he sneered the word out. "I knew you would be a good lay."

"It's about sex, right," Harry turned away. "So why are you so hurt that I used you then?"

"I'm not hurt. I'm angry. I don't like being used." He looked at Harry appraisingly though. "But that hurts right? It being about sex. Just like your relationship with Pyro. He said it himself." He took a step forward, smirking. "Poor Harry Potter, just needs someone to love him."

"Get out," Harry said slowly, knowing he sounded dangerous.

"Hit a nerve, did I?" His smirk was infuriating. Harry pulled out his wand. Malfoy pulled out his, eying Harry's nervously. He had always been a coward.

"Do you really think you can take me?" Harry asked. "This isn't Hogwarts anymore. You have no idea what I can do to you."

Malfoy must've recognized that was true. Maybe he remembered the incident in the bathroom when Harry had almost killed him. He backed off. "If you ever want to hit the sheets, I'll be glad to be of service," he told him, still cocky despite his fear. He opened the door. "You know, when you're lying in bed at night wishing he was still here, not banging the first Death Eater he can." The door slammed before Harry's spell could hit. Maybe he should've gone for Hermione even if it would've been unbelievable. He wondered what John was doing right now.

* * *

><p>John was bored. At least DA and Order meetings were short. Death Eater meetings seemed to last hours and that was mostly because his father was a megalomaniac who tortured his followers one way or another every two seconds.<p>

"Pyro." His father's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

"What?" he asked, bored.

"I asked you a question," Voldemort stated, eyes boring into his.

"Hmmm…must not have been paying attention." The answer was flippant, a risk to be sure. But John had to figure out his position here. Was he above the other Death Eaters? Was he distrusted?

"You'll do best to pay attention," Voldemort hissed. John decided to see where this led. He had already been tortured. He doubted this time would be worse.

"Then can you make these meetings less boring?" he flicked his lighter. The sound seemed to irritate most of the room. "Or at least shorter."

"You do not have to be here," Voldemort replied coldly. His eyes were calculating. "I am sure if you crawl back to Potter he'll take you."

John snarled. "I don't crawl for anyone." He flicked his lighter viciously, holding back the smirk. John knew he was good at this. Oscar worthy. "If you'd just get on with the meeting and talk about something worthwhile, there wouldn't be a fucking problem."

The Death Eaters looked between them, almost perfectly still. They were waiting for something to happen and when something did, their faces froze in surprise, perhaps disbelief. Voldemort actually sent John one of those creepy smiles. John almost preferred torture. No that was an exaggeration.

"While you've shown disrespect, you've shown something the rest of my followers lack." He waved a hand at the room in general, indicating his followers. John thought it looked pompous. Everything was pompous here. "A backbone. You will do well here. Perhaps you will even make me proud" Voldemort lost his smile. "Once you have proven your loyalty." Voldemort looked at Snape. "In the morning, Pyro will accompany you back to Hogwarts for a few days." He again turned to John. "Let's show the wizarding world where your loyalties lie."

"Yes, my lord," Snape responded.

"Now," Voldemort looked around the room. "All except Severus, Bellatrix, Rodolphous, and Lucius leave." So that was the inner circle. John would have to work his way into it. He would have to do something drastic to prove his loyalty. Or at the very least that he had cut himself off from Harry completely. Show that his love had turned to hatred. It had to happen before he went to Hogwarts in the morning. He hated the idea, its implications. But Harry would forgive him. Hopefully.

John waited in the main hall. A few Death Eaters lingered but most returned home. John lit a fire and began to play, to make shapes. He had shown his power; now he would show his control. Plus, it gave him a reason to be in the hall.

The meeting lasted a few minutes longer and only Snape remained with Voldemort. John felt Bellatrix's eyes on him as he shaped the fire into a snake. He depended on everything Xavier ever taught him but he refused to get lost in this fire. There was a game to play. His eyes met Bellatrix's. He smirked. Without a second glance, she left her husband and walked towards John as he put out the fire.

"Impressive," Bellatrix practically purred. She placed a hand on his arm. He wanted to jerk away but he couldn't. Harry would forgive him. He had to. Xavier always told them to play to their strengths. This probably wasn't what he had meant but it would have to do. She stepped into his space, her mouth practically to his ear. "Come with me, Pyro. I guarantee that I can give you things that little boy never could."

John met her eyes, offering a cocky grin. He'd always be a whore. The last thing he saw as Bellatrix lead him out of the room was Snape watching him carefully. He had a feeling he knew where Snape's loyalty lied.

* * *

><p>Snape wasn't in the Great Hall when McGonagall arrived for breakfast. Her eyes met Weasley's ever so briefly as she passed. He gave a barely noticeable shrug. So he hadn't been there yet. The whole student body and every professor were in the hall eating when Snape walked in. With John. Her heart stopped. Had he been captured?<p>

But John was not in ropes. Snape did not seem to be controlling him at all. As John's eyes met hers she saw a familiar look. The same look she had seen after he had tortured Peter Pettigrew. She hid her panic as she realized his betrayal. St. John Allerdyce had finally taken his place at his father's side.

Snape conjured a seat on his other side before he sat. John, no Pyro, took it, practically lounging. At one time such casual behavior amused her. Now it just shoved a knife into her heart. She was getting to old for this. The seventh years looked between him, Snape, and McGonagall. The two Weasleys were shocked.

"Minerva, I believe you've met Pyro," Snape said, digging a fork into his eggs.

"She's seen quite a bit of me actually." They cocky grin that followed referred to more than his Order membership. Indeed, she had seen him in bed and mostly undressed with Harry Potter. He dug the betrayal in deeper.

"Yes," McGonagall replied, refocusing on her own food. "Have you offered him a position here? I wasn't aware he was qualified as a mutant."

"Is that a dig at my non-wizard status?" Pyro asked, grin never falling. "No worries. I'm only here to observe. At least that's what my father says." Slughorn dropped his fork from his position next to Pyro. "You seem to be having trouble with your fork," he told Slughorn, his eyes on barely flickering over him.

"When you are done, Minverva, perhaps you can get a student to give him a tour?" Snape suggested as if he wasn't sitting next to the man, no boy, who had betrayed her. But then again, Snape had betrayed her, too.

"I can manage," Pyro rolled his eyes. "I promise to let out smoke signals if I get lost." McGonagall was sure he would, at the cost of one of the tapestries most likely.

* * *

><p>Ron followed John out of the Great Hall. John closed his eyes for a moment before turning down an empty hallway. He paused before facing him. He didn't want to do this right now. He wanted either to set something large on fire or find a bed and never leave. His mind flashed back to the night before. The feeling of that woman's hands on him. Great, he'd have to sleep on the floor tonight or something.<p>

"Something you want?" John asked, lighter in hand. He could never properly judge Ron's temper.

"How's Harry?" Ron asked. It wasn't a question John expected.

"That's the question you're asking?" he asked in almost honest disbelief. "Are you an idiot? I joined the other side, moron."

Ron appeared unfazed. "You're not a Death Eater," he stated as if was clear as day.

John hiked up his sleeve, revealing the Dark Mark. His father had made some adjustments to it so that he now felt his calls. "This says differently." Of course, he had it before joining up but Ron didn't know that.

Ron's eyes focused on it. For a moment he looked confused. John could see when Ron came to a conclusion. His face was determined. "Whose decision was it?" Ron asked, looking behind him to check for eavesdroppers. "You know for you to turn spy. Harry's? Hermione's? No, Hermione would never suggest it. Or was it yours?"

John couldn't believe it. The guy who disliked him was correctly convinced that he was still on their side. He doubted that anyone else thought that. Then again, Ron didn't see the fight. "Spy?" John asked distastefully. "Why would I do some self-sacrificing bullshit like that?"

Ron raised his eyebrows. "The bad boy turned evil?" he asked. "It's too expected to be true. Plus, I've seen how you look at Harry. What you've done for him. There's no way you'd betray him."

John glared. This could blow his cover. "Harry betrayed _me_," he snapped. He wouldn't go into details. Ron wouldn't believe him. "He doesn't want me."

"So this is some sort of revenge?" Ron asked. Did that mean he believed John?

"No," John said angrily. "What this is is me finally doing what I should've the moment I stepped into this world. Humans deserve to burn."

"But being the better person means not giving them what they deserve," Ron responded. Those words sounded familiar. Of course. Harry had said that after the first vision John saw him have.

"I'm not a good person," John replied, anger leaving. He replaced it with cold detachment. "And they'll burn for what they did to me. What they've done to people like me."

Ron grinned. "Convincing. Good. Don't worry I'm dropping it. I won't blow your cover. I just wanted to let you know that I know."

When Ron walked away, John only watched him. He had nothing to say. And John always had something to say. That was the first time that John really saw why Ron was Harry's best friend. Ron of all people thought he was the 'better person', that he wouldn't betray Harry. It kind of felt nice to have someone believe in him after the week or so he had. It was all too easy to convince people of his betrayal.

He heard a crowd of students heading his way. Snape wanted him to attend the seventh year potions class for whatever reason. But he'd focus on that anyway. Focusing on that meant not thinking about Harry. It meant not thinking about Bellatrix Lestrange. He was using her, not the other way around. Not the other way around. He was only playing the part.

He set his face. It was time to put on a show.

* * *

><p>Harry waited for Remus in the kitchen. He was always there at this time of night and Harry had to talk to him. Without John to bounce ideas off of, even John's own ideas, Harry didn't think he could lead the DA. This wasn't practice anymore. They were in the real world now.<p>

He was relieved when Remus walked in looking tired. For the first time, Harry wondered what kept him up at night. Fear of failure? The stress? He hadn't realized how selfish he had been over the last few months. The only thing he ever spoke to Remus about was the war and himself. He hadn't even offered Remus an apology when John practically forced them to talk. Harry had treated it like business, never bothering to re-establish their relationship. But Harry needed this now. Hermione wasn't enough to get him through this.

Remus headed straight for the stove. "Do you want a cup?" he asked gesturing to the teapot.

"Sure," Harry responded running his hand through his hair. He didn't have the energy for this right now but he had to. There were a lot of things he had to do lately. Like letting John go. "I actually wanted to speak to you."

Remus looked at him. "Business or personal?"

"Both." Harry stared at his hands. Remus sat across from him. "I think I need to bring the DA back into the Order." He chanced looking up at Remus who gave him an encouraging nod. Harry forgot how easy it was to talk to him. "I can't do it. Not without…"

"John," Remus finished for him. Harry nodded. "Harry, you don't need John to lead. You've always been a leader."

"He makes—made—me think that I can do it," Harry replied softly. "That I was something special as Harry. With him, I didn't have to be Harry Potter to win this war. But I guess it was all a lie. One of the first things I ever heard him say was 'what is the point of a relationship if you're not getting some regularly?' or something like that. Should've been a clue."

Remus looked at him sympathetically. "Harry," he said gently. "It was more than that. I don't know if it makes it better or worse but he loved you. Loves."

"Then why did he leave?" Harry felt guilty for playing Remus but if the words weren't true at least the feelings were.

"I don't know," Remus sighed. "He is a very troubled young man and he has so much hatred. I really thought he was making progress but I suppose rage overrules most else." Remus was right, of course, about John making progress. He was a lot less angry than when Harry first met him. That didn't mean the anger was gone though. John needed it now.

"So." Harry needed to change the topic. "What are you doing about the DA?"

"We."

"We, what?" Harry asked, glancing at him strangely.

"If you're not ready to lead solo, so be it," Remus told him. "But you are a hell of a lot better of a leader than I am. We'll run the Order together. As equals."

Harry didn't know what to say. As old as he felt, he always felt like the kid around the other Order members, especially people like Remus and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. It was hard to get over. Harry never thought of himself as a leader but he had been pushed into it (though John claimed it was natural to Harry). Maybe he could do this with Remus. He knew he couldn't without.

"What do you say?" Remus asked.

He thought for a moment. "You don't think I've lost credibility? With John being…well with me being wrong about him."

"So you think he's joined Voldemort, as well," Remus said thoughtfully.

Harry gave him a smile that he didn't feel, almost mocking himself. "I don't think. I know. He's not my John anymore." It was true. He wasn't. At least not until this war was over. Harry never wanted to survive as much as he did now.

"He's Pyro," Remus said. He seemed worried for Harry.

"I guess…yeah, he's Pyro now." That was why Harry disliked calling John that. Pyro was the name he had given himself to detach himself from humanity. All mutants had codenames of sorts but Harry knew what path John could've taken. John himself had told him he almost joined Magneto. That John, the one that followed a different path, he was Pyro. Pyro was angry and hateful. He wasn't human anymore. Just a fighter. A killer even. Tom Riddle Jr. had dropped his name and dubbed himself Lord Voldemort. When thinking about the name Pyro, that's what Harry was always reminded of.

"Harry."

He looked up surprised. He must've zoned out. "Sorry, I guess I just got…"

"Caught up," Remus finished understandingly.

Harry nodded. "Uh, about the credibility thing?"

Remus gave him another encouraging smile. "I think you'll find that any credibility you may have lost, you'll gain back rather quickly." Remus sent him a smile, one Harry had never seen before. It was almost teasing, perhaps mischievous. Was this Moony? "You are Harry Potter, after all."

He couldn't help it. He returned Remus's smile. Yes, he was. It was time to embrace it. It was time to stop playing the part and become who he was always supposed to be. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord. Gryffindor's heir. John would be proud: he wasn't denying himself power anymore, he was embracing it.


	37. Birthright

_Mutant Son_

Warnings: Slash (not graphic). Strong Language and Suggestive Content. Crossover. Remember, takes some from DH but mostly non-compliant**. Dark, rated M for a reason.**

A.N. For those of you who haven't seen, I wrote a short prequel to this, a one-shot called _A Small Small _World. Go check it out if you wonder how the meeting between Xavier and Dumbledore went. For this chapter, I am making no attempts at getting Hagrid's speech right because I'd probably do a terrible job. I'm sure everyone can imagine how he speaks. Also, I'm portraying Snape more favorable than I view him. In my opinion, Snape wasn't evil but he was still a bad guy. His motives were always selfish and what kind of man takes out his hatred on an eleven year old child? But for some strange reason, I feel like Snape may find John amusing, if not tiresome as well. One note on Pyro's strength. I'm sure, practically, Pyro probably wouldn't have the power to basically incinerate a body but here he does. It's convenient. Also, a sort of treat at the end.

**Chapter 37: Birthright **

John was wandering around the castle. He wished he could say he was bored but there was too much running around his head to be bored. Nothing good. He hadn't slept more than a few hours in days, choosing to sit outside by the lake most nights despite the snow. The nightmares were back, the ones he had been having ever since he could remember and new ones. He knew he looked horrible. That was the one thing he couldn't control by acting.

Tonight it wasn't the nightmares that kept him up. Hours earlier he may have made a mistake that would ruin everything he had been working for. What he had given up Harry for. What he had…no one thing at a time. He couldn't think about that now. Snape had made John attend a sixth year Defense Against the Dark Arts class with the female Carrow. Really, they should've just been honest and renamed the class 'Dark Arts'.

When Ginny Weasley had refused to practice some sort of torture spell on a first year, Carrow had ordered John to show the class what torture was all about. John stared at the child for a moment. He couldn't do that, not even for a cover. So John placed all his bets on the fact that having faults would make him more believable. He told Carrow to go fuck herself, that he didn't torture children. John hadn't liked the look she sent him.

"The Dark Lord wants you to show what you're capable of," she told him, holding back a grin. She wanted to bring him down for who knew what reason. He was no threat to her. Until, of course, she said that.

John had grinned at her and promptly lit her on fire. The class jumped back, many horrified, some confused. He put the fire out after a few seconds of her screaming. That felt good. It really shouldn't have.

"I think that shows what I'm capable of, doesn't it?" he asked. "I don't torture children. Everyone here: they're school children." He knelt over her. "You think you're a big man—woman—for having power over a school full of kids. Congratulations, you've reached new heights of pathetic." He glanced over at the students again. Ginny met his eyes, evaluating him. He really hoped she didn't go and agree with her brother. He needed one of them to keep hating him. "I think this bitch may need the nurse. I hear magic does wonders for burns." He stared directly at Ginny for a moment before dismissing her. He did hate her if not in the way he hated people like Carrow. He hated her because she had Harry first. John smirked as she nodded cautiously before leaving.

John reached the Great Hall. Looked like he'd be spending another night in the snow. There was no Bobby to calm him down. No Harry to keep him calm. He made his way to the lake. Forming a flame, he let it spread over the icy lake, watching as it melted. Bobby and he sometimes did this in the winter. He would try to melt the pond while Bobby tried to keep it iced over, usually because Bobby was ice skating and John found him falling through the ice incredibly funny. He let the fire lap at the ice like waves. Soothing.

Fire didn't always mean pain and death. Sometimes it was just beautiful. But whatever higher power out there that gave him control over fire must've either not been thinking or had a sick sense of humor. Fire in his hands was dangerous. He had enjoyed that woman's screams.

"Pyro," a gruff voice acknowledged. John looked over. The giant Hagrid. He had seen him only a handful of times as the man had generally been delegated to his hut and the grounds. His proper place apparently.

"Nice coat," he responded, eying the scraggly fur trench coat of sorts which somehow seemed to match Hagrid's beard.

Hagrid ignored his comment. "It true?" he asked, standing over John. The man really was rather large, though apparently nothing compared to full-blooded giants. John felt small, weak. But he refused to stand, to show that he was nervous. He had his fire which was still slowly melting the lake.

"Gotta be more specific than that, man." John made like he was focused on the fire but he kept an eye on Hagrid. Harry had described him as gentle but he had also acknowledged that the man would viciously fight for someone he cared about. John didn't care what the situation was, as long as the man was capable of hurting him, he was going to be wary.

"You and Harry?" Hagrid asked. "What they said in the papers."

"Was," John responded, pulling out a cigarette, needing something to do which wouldn't look like fidgeting. "Irresolvable differences, or whatever the saying is. He wanted to save people, I wanted them to die. You can't pair the hero up with the villain."

John felt Hagrid's glare on him. "You have no idea what you did."

"Sorry I don't speak freak. Gotta translate," John took a drag from his cigarette.

"He trusted you. Must have."

John looked up at him mockingly. "I never gave him a reason to." He flicked the ash off of the cigarette. Nice controlled movements. He was already tired, already stressed. This act was taking more and more effort. How long would he last? John thought it would come natural. In a way it did, but there were other things. Seeing a child tortured, sleeping with a mad woman. Those were things that didn't come natural. Not anymore. He had changed since the streets. A few days before the attack on Knockturn Alley, John had told Harry he wouldn't be able to sleep without him. It turned out to be true. "You're boy's a fool. It'll make it easy when the time comes."

"You can't take him. He's more powerful than you," Hagrid challenged.

John grinned. "Power's nothing if you're not willing to use it. All I have to do is show him a bit of the John he knew and he'll freeze. He _loves_ me." John laughed. Hagrid tensed. John prepared to let the fire go, just in case.

"You're just like him," Hagrid said instead. "I knew your father when he was at school. The same arrogance, he thought he was better."

John raised his eyebrows at him. "The way I hear it, my father hid who he was. He plotted for the long run." John blew out smoke. It looked almost tangible as his breath also hit the cold air. "Me? I hide nothing. I am who I am and I'm not interested in any end game."

Hagrid shook his head. "You just want to hurt, to kill."

"Bingo. Show him what he's won," John said dryly. The man made a fist. This was it. But they never got the chance to see what would happen. A four-legged figure came bounding across the grounds. John was ready to light it on fire.

"Fang, back!" Hagrid practically roared, looking at John fearfully.

As the figure got closer John realized it was just a dog. A rather large dog. He froze for just a moment, long enough for the dog to reach him. Fuck, he shouldn't have frozen. But Fang didn't bite him; he licked him. Drool caked John's face. Disgusting, but John couldn't help but let out a small smile. He had always liked dogs, the bigger the better. Not that he had ever had one. In fact, his longest interaction with a dog was with a junk yard dog that nearly bit his leg off as John jumped the fence. He still liked dogs though he tended to be wary. He had always wanted a dog. Didn't they like you no matter what?

Hagrid pulled Fang away and John quickly killed his smile, wiping his face. "That beast is nuts," John said standing. The grass next to him was smoking from his cigarette. He put it out, wiping at his face again. When he looked up, Hagrid was watching him peculiarly.

"Funny," Hagrid said curiously. "Fang's usually a good judge of character."

"Probably still smells Harry on me," John suggested, taking a step back as Fang pulled towards him again. What a time for a dog to like him. That beast _was_ nuts. He tore his eyes away from the dog, grinning up at Hagrid. "Because, trust me, Harry was all over me." He turned and left.

The grin dropped as soon as he was facing away from Hagrid. What was with Hogwarts and blowing his cover? He really needed to get out of here. There would be a lot to make up for after the last few days. Unfortunately, that meant something more drastic than just screwing Bellatrix.

* * *

><p>McGonagall managed to meet Hagrid in his cabin. Though her animagus form was well known, it was hard to see a cat in the dark.<p>

"What was it that you wanted to speak about Hagrid?" she asked as she took a cup of tea from him.

"That Pyro kid," he responded, taking a gulp from his mug. Somehow she doubted it was tea he was drinking.

"What about him?" McGonagall responded, setting her cup down.

"I spoke to him a few days ago," Hagrid said. "He's one cocky kid. Bad to the bones, I thought."

"Thought?" she peered at him curiously.

Hagrid paused for a moment, looking to his bed where Fang laid fast asleep. "Since then, whenever the kid's outside, Fang's taken to following around after him. Pyro don't look too happy about it when people're watching but I've seen him when he thinks nobody ain't looking. He plays with Fang. Actually smiles."

McGonagall thought it over. What was Hagrid's point? Finally, she sighed. "It's not black and white," she told him. "Not everyone on the other side is evil. St. J—Pyro falls into the shades of grey. He always has."

"Even with Harry?" he asked, surprised.

"Yes," McGonagall nodded. "Even if Potter thought highly of him, he knew who Pyro is. Pyro's not evil. He's just a damaged child who keeps making the wrong decisions."

"But he's a child ain't he?" Hagrid responded. He took another gulp before continuing. "I don't like that it's children we're fighting."

"As far as I know, Pyro is the youngest of them." She leveled Hagrid with her best stern stare. "There is a point, Hagrid, when damaged children are no longer children. They become the men and women we fight against every day. Pyro is standing in that limbo. He had his chance. Potter gave it to him. Severus Snape made a bad decision when he wasn't much younger than Pyro. Then he was a child who didn't know what he was getting into. Today he's a loyal follower of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and a killer. Pyro has chosen that same path."

Hagrid clearly didn't like it. Frankly, McGonagall didn't like it either. Though she never truly trusted Pyro, she did like him. She liked what he could do for Potter. He made Potter smile. He made him stronger. But he was just another on the list of people she once felt responsible for whom she would have to face in the upcoming battle.

"There's something about him," Hagrid cut the silence. "Sometimes his eyes look just plain sad and he looks like he's going to pass out from exhaustion. That kid ain't no Death Eater."

It appeared that Hagrid wasn't getting the point. There were plenty of shades of grey here. Pyro was dark on the light side and light on the dark side. But she saw the terrible potential in Pyro. That sadness would turn to anger and that exhaustion would turn into madness. Pyro wasn't evil. Not yet, maybe not ever. However, he was still the enemy. He had killed before for them, he would kill for his father now. Pyro was born to bring destruction. With a power like his, how could he not have been?

* * *

><p>Hermione watched Harry from her position going through yet another book on the Hogwarts' founders. He was staring out the window in deep thought. The determined look on his face suggested it was more than just John that he was thinking about. It was the war.<p>

Malfoy entered the library, sending a fleeting glance at Harry. Harry didn't acknowledge him. Something happened there, though she had no clue what. Must've been weeks ago. Had Malfoy made a move on Harry? Was that what had made John so angry? She knew the insecurities that John had, insecurities he turned into new levels of jealousy. The only reason she hadn't worried about it before was because he seemed to trust Harry and always turned his anger against the offending party, so to speak.

Hermione looked at Malfoy curiously as he sat across from her. He peered at the title of her book. "I don't understand how history will help you win this war," he commented. "First Grindelwald and now the Hogwarts' founders?"

"Grindelwald didn't have anything to do with the war," she told him. Harry tensed so she dropped the subject. "What do you want?" she asked instead.

"The DA's back with the Order," he stated.

"So?"

"So, I still want in," he rolled his eyes. "Come on Granger, keep up." She glared. "Look I don't want to fight. I don't even want to be involved in most things but tell them I'm willing to help when needed."

"Why don't you speak to Harry about that?" Hermione asked. "He has more power than me." She glanced towards Harry who still ignored them. It was clear after the last two meetings that Remus and Harry were running things together now.

"It appears that his boyfriend's betrayal has limited his ability to function as a normal person," Malfoy sneered. "Never mind a leader."

The betrayal had been confirmed only a couple of days before. John was dropped off the Undesirable list and the Daily Prophet wrote a small article on how he had been rehabilitated. As if he was on the right side now. She had torn the article in pieces the moment she read it. What she disliked the most was that John was currently in Hogwarts. He knew about the Horcruxes. What if he found one? What would he do with it? Then it hit her.

"Harry," she practically whispered in horror. He finally turned towards her as Malfoy watched her. "He knows."

"What do I know?" Malfoy asked.

"Not you," Hermione responded distractedly. Harry watched her, his face intense. That's all it had been lately: sad and intense. "John, he knows about the…" She stopped before she could give it away, eying her book pointedly.

"Malfoy, leave," Harry ordered, standing.

"Wha—" Malfoy attempted to protest.

"I told you to leave," Harry said, his voice forceful. He looked at Malfoy. "If you want in, if you want to help in any way, you need to learn to follow orders. You do what I tell you." They glared each other for a few moments before Malfoy backed down, though a sneer remained on his face.

"If we didn't need you so bad, I'd offer you to the Dark Lord myself," Malfoy said, his voice filled with more hatred than Hermione had heard in years. Something definitely happened there. But nevertheless, he left.

Hermione and Harry looked at each other. "What are we going to do?" Hermione asked him, panic creeping into her voice. "If John tells You Know Who we know about the Horcruxes, he'll—"

"He won't tell," Harry interrupted. He didn't let her protest. "Hermione, he won't tell. He's still John."

Now Hermione knew Harry was in denial. He couldn't accept John's betrayal, not fully. He had to think that his John was still there even if hidden. "Harry, I know him leaving hurts but you have to acc—"

Harry interrupted again. "I know, Hermione," he said, voice intense. There was no sadness, no anger in his eyes, just determination. She felt like she was losing him to Harry Potter. "But he's still John. I understand him. He won't tell Voldemort about the Horcruxes. He's not loyal to his father. Not dedicated to him. Voldemort's just convenient. John will keep the information to himself until he can use it to his benefit. And the time to use it isn't now."

Perhaps he had a point. John was incredibly selfish. If he couldn't be loyal to Harry, he couldn't be loyal to anyone. Remus and Tonks were right. John did love Harry, but with the way John functioned, he could so easily turn that love into hate. But Harry didn't function that way. John would see that weakness and use it. He wouldn't hold back. John didn't know how to.

"Still," Hermione said, watching as Harry glanced briefly at her book. He dismissed it quickly. "We need to find these Horcruxes and soon."

"Ron will be looking for the one in Hogwarts," Harry said as he sat. He looked intensely pensive again.

"But how will he destroy it?" Hermione asked. "So far we've only had fiendfyre. I love Ron, but he doesn't have the power to control fiendfyre."

"He'll figure out a way." Harry gave her a small smile, the first she had seen in nearly two weeks. "You don't give him enough credit. Besides, all he needs is a lead. We'll see him soon."

She was about to respond when Fred came running in. "Harry. Hermione," he breathed. "Most of the Order's downstairs. We have news…Pyro."

They didn't need to be told twice, practically flying to the drawing room. A few newspapers were spread across the table, all the same edition of the Daily Prophet, and Order members were reading over each other's shoulders. When they saw Harry, they backed off to let him through. Hermione followed closely behind him so that she could see, too. The look on Harry's face scared her. He had truly stopped being Harry. Was John the only thing that had been keeping Harry there?

She scanned the newspaper. Hogsmeade had been nearly burnt to the ground. They were lucky: after the attack on Hogsmeade and the fall of Hogwarts, most people had left. But the paper reported a few deaths. No names. All that was found were distinct piles of ash. The paper credited Pyro with a job well done. Apparently he had taken out a dangerous hiding place for Order members. She didn't know why they even bothered fabricating these lies. No one really believed them. All this report served to do was to show what side Pyro was now on and to fully demonstrate the destruction he could cause. Fear. John was right. It was always about fear.

Harry walked away without a word. Hermione wanted to follow him but Remus held her back. "Leave him," he told her. "He needs time." She wanted to tell him that Harry needed her but he didn't anymore. All she would do was serve as a convenient proverbial punching bag.

* * *

><p>Of all people, it was Malfoy who found him in the basement. Harry didn't know why he chose this place. It only served to remind Harry what he had let John do, but it was also the only place people never really followed him to. Except John. And now apparently Malfoy as well. He expected a biting remark. Maybe a reference to what they had nearly done on that table. He didn't get it.<p>

"What happened?" Malfoy asked. It was only a question. Neutral really despite their angry words not even hours before. So neutral that Harry felt as if he deserved an answer. Harry had used Malfoy. He did owe him something.

"John burnt down Hogsmeade," he informed Malfoy. "Apparently a few people died." That of course wasn't true. John was following the plan. He would allow as much time as possible for people to escape. By now he knew what a burnt body looked like as ash. It wasn't hard to imitate. The Death Eaters wouldn't look to identify the dead, and they certainly wouldn't be looking for stray charred bones in a pile of ash. They wouldn't care. Harry and John would use that to their advantage.

Malfoy didn't say anything. Harry thought he could've died from shock when he came to sit next to him. Malfoy left plenty of space between them.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked, keeping a cautious eye on him. He wouldn't let Malfoy kiss him again.

Malfoy shrugged. "I don't know. You just seem like you need the company from someone that doesn't care enough about Pyro to harass you about him."

Harry just looked at him. "You hate me," he reminded Malfoy. He felt sick when he realized what Malfoy's actions could mean. "Please don't tell me you _like_ me." Harry really hoped he wouldn't have to use the term 'like like'.

Malfoy gave him an incredibly superior look. How did he manage it? "No worries Potter. I don't like you." He sat up a little straighter. "I just want to sleep with you."

"Then why—"

"Why this?" Malfoy asked indicating where he was sitting. Harry nodded. "Because I don't hate you either. I don't like being played. And you get on my nerves, but I don't hate you. At least not anymore." He shrugged. "Plus, maybe if I'm a little nicer, you'll give in."

"Not likely." Harry only felt a little better but now guilt was eating at him. It was easier not to feel guilt about someone who he thought hated him. "I used you," he said slowly.

"So we've established," Malfoy scoffed.

"_We_ used you," Harry corrected. John would tell him that what he was doing was incredibly stupid. But Harry needed someone to know and not just for his own sanity. There was a good chance Harry could die in this war. If they won, who would vouch for John? John wouldn't do well in prison. Forget dementors, he would go insane from boredom, Harry thought almost affectionately.

Hermione often got on his case for not thinking things through, John for him not being cautious enough. But they didn't get it. He made split second decisions and they worked. Most of the time. It was the plans that failed. Malfoy, oddly enough, was the best choice for this. He wasn't involved in the war enough that knowing John's true allegiance would affect his actions. Hermione and Remus would hold back against John. John had been adamant about not letting that happen. Malfoy had also made an oath. He literally couldn't betray them.

Malfoy stared at him. "I didn't do what I did to make John jealous." He didn't know how to word that. They hadn't had sex but they didn't just kiss either. "I did it because it was part of the plan."

"What plan?" There was an edge to Malfoy's voice. But Harry couldn't stop now. It was too late.

"John needed a reason to leave. To change sides," he explained. "Something that Voldemort could see."

Malfoy stared at him. Harry didn't think he had to continue. As much as he disliked Malfoy, the guy wasn't an idiot. "You sent him in as a spy." He seemed almost incredulous. Harry nodded. "And when the Dark Lord went into his mind, he needed to see proof that Pyro had changed sides." Harry nodded again. "You don't think that the Dark Lord will actually fall for that, do you?"

"Apparently he did," Harry responded. He was tired.

"If he looks any deeper he'll see your plan," Malfoy continued.

"John's Professor—"

"The mutant leglimens?" Malfoy interrupted.

"Sort of," Harry confirmed. It was close enough. "Well, he built a shield around John's mind. Voldemort won't be able to detect it."

Malfoy didn't say anything for a while. He looked at Harry for a moment before seemingly contemplating the wall. No matter how bad Malfoy reacted, his oath wouldn't let him do anything destructive towards the plan. That fact alone let Harry remain calm.

"You're telling me because of the oath," Malfoy finally said though his eyes remained on the wall, his body still tense. He was angry but not nearly as much as Harry expected.

"Mostly," Harry admitted. "I need someone to know in case I die."

"You're morbid, did you know that?" Malfoy asked glancing at him before looking away again.

"I'm realistic," Harry responded, he too turning his eyes to the wall. "And honestly?" He looked at Malfoy who had taken to staring at him. It made Harry feel uncomfortable. "I needed to tell someone. That might be weak but I am what I am." That was something Harry had learned from John. You couldn't hold any delusions about what you are. Why was Harry even telling him this? But Malfoy treated him like a normal person. A normal person he disliked, admittedly. Sometimes he couldn't be Harry Potter.

Malfoy didn't respond, didn't even look at him, so Harry got up and went to the stairs. Before he could take more than a few steps up, Malfoy stopped him. "It's not weak," he told Harry. "It's just human." He didn't look angry anymore but Harry knew it was still there. They were going to fight about this eventually.

"I can't afford to be human," Harry told him, giving him a false smile. Malfoy could see right through it. "Didn't you know? I'm Harry Potter. The Chosen One." He paused for a moment. "Gryffindor's heir."

Harry headed to his room. The look on Malfoy's face was totally worth spilling the beans on that one. John's influence probably. But there really wasn't any reason to hide it. Myths, no matter whether based on truth or not, were a useful thing. The wizarding world needed hope again and Harry was going to give it to them, even if that meant he had to be the heir of Gryffindor to do it. He could no longer hold delusions about who he was. He was never meant to lead a normal life.

But John never set any stock to normal. He saw power as something that made you better than normal. To John that was what he needed after his life. And maybe it was what Harry needed too. The Dursleys had made him feel like nothing but that wasn't true. He was Lily and James Potter's son. He was the one who could kill Voldemort. He was the one he was either going to lead the wizarding world to its lightest days or leave it in darkness. That was who he was. He had that power.

When he opened the door to his room, something metallic shun on his bed. The sword of Gryffindor. Harry paused for a moment before he picked it up, testing it out. It felt so much better than it had when he was twelve. It felt comfortable. This was his. This was his birthright. And Hogwarts had sent it to him. There could be no more Harry now. Only Harry Potter.

* * *

><p>"What has my son proven?" Voldemort asked Snape, standing next to the fire. Since the discovery of his son, his followers had noticed that he looked at fire differently.<p>

"My lord?" Snape asked, unclear about the question.

"Where do his loyalties lie?" Voldemort re-worded, sending his follower a cursory glance. As if it was an insult that Snape could not understand him.

"With you, my lord," Snape responded, daring to move closer to the fire. "His actions in Hogsmeade spoke clearly." It was true. Pyro had willingly killed in Hogsmeade and burnt almost an entire village to the ground. If desperate, Dumbledore would order a spy to kill in order to blend in and gain trust. But neither Harry Potter nor the werewolf would be willing to make that sacrifice.

"Carrow informed me that he was unwilling to torture," Voldemort went on. He couldn't quite understand why he wanted his son to be one of his followers, but he had to be sure that the boy was on his side. He could imagine the possibilities. Voldemort would break Potter before he killed him. He had never thought he could hate someone more than Albus Dumbledore.

"A child," Snape corrected. "We have known that Pyro would not take orders that do not suit him. He did not become an entirely new person over night. It would be rather suspicious if he had. Pyro, by Potter's side or by yours, will not harm a child." He paused. "Did Carrow also tell you that he lit her on fire?"

Voldemort turned to him. "No, she did not." He appeared rather interested. Voldemort grinned. "Yes, the boy will do well. Do you think we can trust him enough to bring him into the inner circle?"

Snape was always surprised at where he had ended up in the Death Eater ranks, receiving the Dark Lord's trust like no other. Though he supposed that was about to change if Pyro let it. No, Pyro would keep the Dark Lord an arm's length away.

"My lord," Snape turned to him, hands behind his back. "His loyalty to Potter was always the issue, was it not?" Voldemort didn't interrupt so he continued. "I believe we no longer have to worry about that loyalty. The boy is not acting."

"How can you be so sure?" Voldemort asked suspiciously.

"It appears that Pyro has started some sort of physical relationship with Bellatrix," Snape replied. "Excuse me if you think that I am giving in to mere conjecture, but I believe Potter could never accept that, no matter Pyro's reasons."

"You do not know of my son's past," Voldemort said thoughtfully, turning from the fire. "He would have no problem sleeping with someone he despised, was even disgusted by. A whore once upon a time, you see." Snape prevented the distaste from appearing on his face. "Oh do not hold it against him, Severus. The child survived at all costs. And it taught him the art of manipulation, a useful tool." Voldemort looked at Nagini for a moment though he didn't quite seem to be seeing her. "No, this is not an act. If it were, Pyro would have chosen someone else in fear of what his relationship with Bellatrix would do to his precious Potter. His love for that boy has been proven. But if this love has really turned into hate… I see no trace of deception in his mind. A mutant would not be able to hide thoughts from me, his mind is like an open book." A dangerous glint appeared on Voldemort's face. "Bring him in. It is time to let him into the fold. It is his birthright after all."

* * *

><p>Bellatrix was all over John when Snape entered the room. Good timing really. It meant that John was saved from going any further with the woman, at least at the moment. He removed his hand from her thigh, but she did not get off him.<p>

"You interrupt our fun, Severus," she pouted. Snape glanced at John so he smirked. He placed his hands on Bellatrix's hips and hoisted her off of him. It was an interesting thing to be able to do that, to be clearly physically stronger than someone he was sleeping with.

"Sorry sweetheart," he said, adopting his cockiest tone. It was no term of endearment. It rolled off his tongue like an insult. "My father calls."

"I did not think you cared for his orders," Bellatrix said, adjusting her robes.

John brushed a cursory hand through his hair to neaten it though he knew it would remain in partial disarray. "If it means I get to burn something, I'll take his orders just fine." He could've added that any excuse not to be touching her was good, too, but that would defeat the whole reason for sleeping with her to begin with. But he couldn't resist. "And I don't particularly like you." She frowned, sort of like a child (which was completely unattractive), as he followed behind Snape.

"If you don't like her, why do you sleep with her?" Snape asked somewhat curiously.

John grinned at him. "We ain't sleeping, man."

Snape just shook his head. "Last month, did you not say something about pedophilia?"

John raised his eyebrow. "It's not pedophilia for me. And me is really all I'm interested in." Mostly.

When they entered the room, Voldemort was waiting for them. "Ah, yes, Pyro. Congratulations on a job well done at Hogsmeade. Excellent." John didn't respond. He knew he did an excellent job, for more reasons than his father knew. "I fear though some questions of loyalty remain. Severus has informed me that these questions are without merit but I do not yet agree. So I ask, who are you loyal to?"

"Myself." Voldemort looked at him carefully, digging into his mind, so John thought about himself, he thought about surviving, about revenge. His father looked pleased. Xavier had really pulled through. One more reason mutants are superior to wizards (besides the whole evolution thing. Like he said, wizards were old news). He let that thought travel to his father as well.

An expression of distaste flickered across Voldemort's face. Clearly he still held his prejudices against mutants. John was just useful.

"So why should I trust you?" Voldemort finally asked.

John shrugged. "I'm not saying trust me. I'm just saying I'm on your side. And I only take orders I want to."

"And if I torture you? What then?" This felt like some sort of test.

"Not going to change my mind. I'm incredibly stubborn."

"You rather die than bend to someone else's will," Voldemort surmised, his intense gaze never moving away. Finally, he strode a few paced away, his snake following at his heels. "Carrow has informed me that you refused to torture a student when asked. Severus tells me you tortured her instead."

"I torched her, I didn't torture her." Ah, the beauty of the English language. He was proud of that one. He grinned. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Snape fail to hold back a small smile.

"Indeed," Voldemort responded. He was unimpressed. "But the question is why you did not torture the Weasley girl? I believe that would have served better than torturing one of us. Old loyalties?"

John sneered. "Old loyalties? I thought I made it clear that I don't hurt children. It's pathetic and if I see one of your followers do it, I'll probably torch them, too."

"That girl is not a child," he responded. "Nearly of age. Not even a year younger than Potter, I suppose. Is he a child?"

"So one month she's a kid and the next she's not?" John asked. He didn't hold back his disgust. It still fit in his Pyro personality. "You can't face the things Harry's faced and be a child. You made sure of that. And if he were a child, I wouldn't lay a hand on him."

"There is no place for values here," Voldemort responded thoughtfully. "I believed that you were ready for this. That you would show no remorse. Be the perfect—"

"Weapon?" John interrupted. "It's not gonna happen. And if you want me to fight for you, you're gonna let me keep whatever values I have. That's not much."

Voldemort thought about it, evaluating him. John had no way of knowing whether this was a test, whether his values were indeed an issue. "Very well." John felt some mild relief. "In a few minutes, the inner circle will be meeting. I would like you to join us."

John stared at him. "Just like that?"

"I am confident that I could detect deceit if it was there," Voldemort responded. John held back a smirk. "I believe you are a valuable asset. We can use your talents as well as your mind. I fear I lack intelligent followers."

It looked like John found Voldemort's downfall: arrogance. And Harry, of course. He had no idea who he was messing with.

* * *

><p>Harry was late but it took him a while to get away. Hermione had become excessively clingy. He stopped in front of the door, tapping gently. The door opened and Harry slipped in, careful to remain covered by the invisibility cloak. He turned back to the door, spotting John for the first time in nearly two months. The only thing that ever told Harry that John was alright was the series of articles about the glory that was Pyro. He was slowly destroying property across the wizarding world. Voldemort continued to rule by fear and Pyro seemed to have become a symbol of that. Harry had no idea their plan would work so well.<p>

Harry threw off the invisibility cloak. They kept their distance, both looking each other over. He refused to react emotionally. Doing so would break the shields he had slowly built up to truly become Harry Potter the last two months. Occlumency had never been easier.

John looked tired and paler than normal, made worse by his black attire. Harry couldn't look much better. He couldn't remember the last time he slept a full night. He was constantly on the alert, evacuating wizards and witches they thought to be in danger and constantly appearing too late to stop Death Eater attacks. Hopefully that was about to change.

"You look like crap," John finally offered.

Harry shrugged. "You don't look any better." John offered him a grin and a knot developed in Harry's stomach. He couldn't allow any emotion. John was going to have to leave again.

"Not happy to see me?" John asked as he moved to a chair. He didn't sit, eyes fixed to the chair instead. This was hard for him, too.

"I'm trying my best not to be," Harry admitted, feeling the shield grow weaker. He was too weak for this. He cleared his throat. "Do you have any information for me?"

John looked at him for a moment before slipping into the same business-like manner. "Yes," he responded. "In a couple of days we're attacking the London Bridge. Burning it down on one end and blowing it up on another. There's talk of giants."

This was big. What would have happened without this intel? Again, Harry knew they were doing the right thing. "What day?"

"Wednesday."

"Time?"

"Noon."

"How many Death Eaters?"

"Seven so far."

"Voldemort coming?"

"Of course not," John snorted. "The man's hyped up on power. It's not worth his effort."

"And you're not sure about the giants?"

"No," John responded. "It's all hush, hush. I don't think anyone knows for sure. If I don't know, the only other people who could know are Bellatrix and Snape."

Harry nodded before catching up to what he said. "So you succeeded?" he asked, unable to hold back his impressed tone. "It actually only took you two months to infiltrate the inner circle?" This was big. It put John in more danger but it also meant he was trusted.

"A few weeks, actually," John responded, cocky smirk. Harry wanted to kiss him. He felt it in his whole body. But he grasped at his self control.

Harry nodded again, at a loss for what to do. They looked at each other again, both standing awkwardly. "I guess that's it then…" Harry felt fourteen again.

John didn't respond, his body tense. Then he sprung, taking a few steps and pulling Harry close. Harry knew now what they meant by a bruising kiss. He grabbed a hold of John, trying to get closer. John made a noise at the back of his throat. They were near a bed. Harry pushed him down and leaned in to kiss him, but John stopped him.

"I need to tell you something," John said, breathless but also hesitant. Harry rarely saw John hesitant. He waited for John to continue but he didn't.

"What?" Harry prompted.

John bit his bottom lip for a moment before shaking his head. "Never mind. It's nothing." Harry didn't think about it, pretending it was nothing. He leaned in and kissed John again, pinning him down. John practically arched beneath him. Harry would regret this later. It would only make saying good-bye harder.


	38. Failure

_Mutant Son_

A.N. Thank you to those continuing to read this story and reviewers, too. I love getting reviews probably like everyone else. Also, I'm American and while I've been to London, I'm not exactly an expert with its make-up. The London Bridge was the first thing that came to my head so I went with it.

**Chapter 38: Failure**

John woke up with a start. The room had grown dark. He was supposed to have left well before the sun went down; he was going to have to figure out a suitable excuse. Maybe he'd think about that guy he had hooked up with on Harry's birthday. Of course, that meant he would have to get drunk though that didn't seem like such a bad idea. Figuring that he was already late, he decided that he'd stay with Harry a little longer.

Harry really did look terrible, even asleep, sort of like he did after that vision of Pettigrew. As much as John worried, he felt a little pleased that Harry was missing him as much as he was missing Harry. That feeling was immediately followed by guilt. How much was Harry dealing with?

Harry shifted in his sleep, mumbling something. John brushed his thumb across his jaw, light enough not to wake him up, but he couldn't resist touching him. Harry mumbled again. This time he could understand him. "Malfoy." John's heart stopped, panicked. But then Harry smiled and opened his eyes. "Got you."

"You are fucking cruel," John told him, pulling away and swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

"Come on, it was a little bit funny," Harry said, sitting up. John started pulling on clothes. "Do you have to go?" John glanced over at him. He didn't like the tone of voice. It sounded hurt.

John looked out the window, where the sun was mostly set. Who was going to find them here? A random hotel in muggle London. "I can stay a little while," John said, pausing in dressing and sitting back on the bed.

"Are you really mad at me?" Harry asked, reaching for his pants which somehow ended up on the side table. He pulled them on without getting up, stubbornly not looking at John. John watched him, considering jumping him again. But they didn't have much time. It was either sex or just being together. Frankly, John had been having enough sex lately even if it was nowhere as good as this. More wild maybe, but John was a bit biased. To him, Harry was the best sex he ever had. He was sure there was something psychological to that. So no, John wasn't mad. He didn't have time for that.

"No," he finally said as he saw Harry's face getting more worried. He was thinking too much. "Not at all." He kissed Harry, softly, not intending to start anything.

Harry pulled away slowly with a small smile. John rested his head against his. "You need to shave."

John laughed, running a hand along his jaw. "Yeah, keep running out of razors and cigarettes." The relaxed look on Harry's face faded away. "Can't we just relax for a few more minutes?"

"We shouldn't have done this," Harry said, going for his shirt. He pulled on quickly, struggling a bit to get his arm through. John only watched him.

"Why?" John asked. It was clear when Harry got here that he meant to keep it impersonal. John thought maybe that would have changed after. This was what John had wanted more than anything else. He should've told Harry about Bellatrix though. He really shouldn't have slept with Harry without him knowing. But that wasn't a conversation he wanted to have right now.

Harry ran his hand through his hair, biting at his lower lip. He turned to John. "I just adjusted," Harry said. "I even got a few nights of sleep. For the first time, I became Harry Potter."

John didn't like this, partly because he hadn't gotten those few nights of sleep and largely because he never wanted Harry to become Harry Potter. He could win this war just being Harry, if it weren't for people's need to put him on that pedestal.

"Don't look like that," Harry rolled his eyes. "You became Pyro. I became Harry Potter. For the greater good, right?"

"Fuck the greater good," John bit out. Harry just looked at him. Wasn't that why they were doing what they were doing though? For the greater good? Who knew that being a better man would make him feel so dirty? "Whatever, Harry." He put on his shirt before peering at Harry. He couldn't stay mad. They didn't have time. He walked over to Harry and pulled tentatively at his arm. He didn't want to force this. But he was relieved when Harry came closer. John slipped his hand into Harry's front pocket, pulling out the lighter.

He smirked. "Adjusted? You're such a liar."

Harry shrugged. "Yeah, well, I've stopped taking fully clothed showers. I'm even getting Occlumency down. Malfoy said I'm nearly passable."

"Malfoy," John commented, playing with his old lighter. He couldn't help the image that passed through his head, Malfoy on top of Harry. That in itself was bad enough but John could also remember the almost cringing expression on Harry's. John asked Harry to do that, to use his body to get something they needed. But that's what John knew.

Harry appeared uneasy. "Listen, about Malfoy…" he trailed off. It was as if he was waiting for John to jump to conclusions. But John knew Harry wouldn't cheat on him. No, that was John's thing. "I told him."

John pulled out his cigarettes. Empty. He tossed the empty carton onto the bed sighing. He really needed one right now. He flicked at his old zippo. "Why?" he asked finally.

"What if I die?" Harry asked. John stared.

"You're not dying," he announced. No, if John was doing this, Harry wasn't dying.

Harry didn't comment. "Someone else besides me needs to know," Harry went on. He paused. "And I needed to tell someone. It was…people kept telling me that I had to accept that you betrayed me. I just…I just needed to tell someone."

John wanted to argue but what was done was done. Besides, how could he be angry with Harry for telling Malfoy something when later tonight John would find himself in the bed of Sirius Black's killer?

"Okay," John said, catching sight of his hand toying away with the lighter. He stopped and handed the lighter back over to Harry who pocketed it.

Harry looked at him suspiciously, but said nothing. They stood in silence. Awkward. John began to fidget again. They were never supposed to be awkward. "I have to go," John said, moving for his coat. Harry nodded, looking at the floor. John paused, wanting to say or do something. Anything. But there was nothing he could. He pulled on his jacket.

"When and where next time?" Harry asked when John stopped moving. John looked at him, refusing to show emotion. He had to be Pyro again the minute he left the room. It was time.

"We can't meet again," John told him. Surprisingly, Harry didn't argue as he met John's eyes.

"I'm guessing you have a plan," Harry's eyes looked hurt but his voice was even. John handed him a small key.

"I'll send you weekly updates," John said. "This way we'll have no contact. I'll have no contact with that box or that building."

"You're going to send me mail," Harry commented.

John didn't like this. It was never hard to read Harry, least of all for him. So John shrugged and sent him a smirk. He needed to see a real smile out of Harry. "I'll send you love letters."

Harry smiled. Success. "As long as you don't write me poetry or something."

"Ah, no sonnets?" John faked disappointment.

"No sonnets," Harry confirmed almost threateningly. John offered him one last grin before turning towards the door. He wasn't going to turn back. As emotional as both Harry and John were in their own ways, stuff like this, good-byes, were always left adamantly unfelt or at the least unsaid. But Harry stopped him.

"John, I…I love you." John didn't turn. Sure the words had been said before but rarely. And Harry was never the first to say it. John had issues with love because he hadn't thought it existed, didn't trust it. Harry had issues with love because he knew it existed and it had always hurt him. Harry avoided John for a month because he thought it was dangerous for John to love him, for Harry to love John. Saying it now was a big fucking deal. It made John feel just a little bit better. And then it made him feel a whole lot worse. It was so much easier being the street kid. He could do what had to be done with the only consequences being jail. Now so much more was at stake. And he was going to lose everything. Sleeping with Bellatrix wasn't something that Harry could forgive. Especially if John hid it.

"Me, too," John said. Before opening the door, he paused, turning ever so slightly so that he could see Harry from the corner of his eye. "Harry, just make sure I don't have to kill anyone on Wednesday. Stop them. Me."

* * *

><p>"How's the boyfriend?" Malfoy asked from the foot of the basement stairs.<p>

Harry looked up. "We don't have a lesson today, do we?" he asked, though he knew that he had purposefully not scheduled an occlumency lesson for today.

"No." He sat on the table a few feet from where Harry was sitting on the ground playing with John's lighter.

"How do you know I saw him?" Harry asked.

Malfoy eyed the lighter. "After being gone for most of the day, you've locked yourself in the basement and are now staring at that stupid lighter." Harry only shrugged, continuing to play with the lighter. _Flick. Flick. Flick._ "What do you see in him anyway?"

Harry paused. "Why?" Sure, he didn't hate Malfoy anymore but he didn't particularly want to talk to him either. Malfoy wasn't as bad of a guy as he thought. Well, no, he wasn't that bad of a guy anymore. But Harry still disliked him because, frankly, the guy was irritating and still thought he was better than everyone.

"Cho Chang, Ginny Weasley, St. John Allerdyce," Malfoy said slowly. "One of these is not like the others."

"Yeah, one of them is a guy," Harry rolled his eyes.

"Besides that," Malfoy said impatiently. "Chang and Weasley were both the sweethearts of their houses. Nice, beautiful, confident."

"So?" Harry asked, confused. "John's good looking. He's clearly confident, too."

"But he's not so nice is he?" Malfoy asked curiously. "And as much as I make fun of the Weasleys for their poverty and social status—"

"Ginny's not trash?" Harry finished, annoyed, remembering Malfoy's favorite description of John: trash. A description that John whole-heartedly agreed with. "Why does it matter? No matter what I say, John's just trash to you."

"When we were eleven you refused my friendship." Was that what this was about? "It bothered me because something like that never happened to me before. Of course, we could never have been friends anyway because you're an irritatingly naïve golden boy with the world wrapped around your finger, but at least I knew I wasn't Gryffindor or Hufflepuff enough for you. But Pyro?"

"He's Slytherin," Harry said slowly, catching on.

"No," Malfoy sneered. "Slytherin would never let in dirt like him." Harry decided not to remind Malfoy of the fact that Hogwarts recognized John as Slytherin's heir. He just wanted to see where this was going. "My point is, Potter, that your boy is the Dark Lord's son. He's cruel, arrogant, and cares about only one thing: himself." He thought over his words. "And for some strange reason you, I guess."

Harry rolled his eyes again. "It's not any of your business."

Malfoy shrugged, not looking at Harry. This was odd. Malfoy was going for blasé, something that Harry had never seen on him before. He was uncomfortable. Harry had seen Malfoy scared but never uncomfortable. Finally, Malfoy looked at him, face carefully neutral. "The thought of me on you disgusts you, but you're so hooked on Pyro that you can barely even go without him. You hate me, or at least hated me, which was fine because it was mutual, but you hated me because you think I'm a cruel bigoted bully. How is Pyro any different?"

"John had a hard life," Harry decided to say. "He doesn't hurt people for fun. He just doesn't trust them. Is John a nice person? No." Malfoy stared at him. "You don't choose who you love, Malfoy, it just happens. I get him. He gets me. If you ever got to know him, you'd get why I love him, even if you could never love him yourself."

Malfoy looked doubtful. "Is the sex really that good?"

Harry gave up. "Sure, it's the sex. That's why I'm pining for him because the sex was so good I can't even think about having sex with anyone else." Harry checked his watch, getting up. "I need to talk to Remus." He didn't wait for Malfoy to respond, instead heading straight up. Malfoy really was irritating.

Harry found Tonks before he found Remus. He was about to ask her where to find Remus, when he spotted the look on her face. She was upset. Harry swallowed her words as her watery eyes met his.

"He's in our bedroom," Tonks informed him, eyes turning to a book she wasn't reading.

Harry was going to thank her and take advantage of the excuse to leave but something stopped him. "Are you…er, are you okay?"

"Everything's fine," she told him, attempting her usual bright smile. "Remus and I just got into an argument."

He nodded, considering her words. "Do you want me to talk to him?" he asked slowly. He didn't think he could be of much use but he was pretty sure that was what he was supposed to offer.

Tonks gave him another small smile. "That's sweet, Harry, but I think you have more important things to deal with than my marital issues."

"It depends on the issue, I guess," he told her, contemplating sitting next to her. No, that would make it more awkward.

Tonks studied him. "You have enough on your plate."

"I'll get a bigger plate," he offered, giving her a small smile. She choked out a laugh and, to his horror, a few more tears fell from her eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…" To what?

"You didn't do anything wrong," she told him, patting the seat next to hers. He tentatively sat next to her. "I forget sometimes that you're just a kid. Then you do something adorable like this." Adorable? "Don't make that face." She put a hand on her belly. "I hope my son is as great as you. You have a good heart, Harry."

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" he asked, watching her hand stroke her belly. How large did pregnant women get before they gave birth? Then he thought about it. That was Remus and Tonks' son in there. Part of their family. He pulled his eyes away. "Or are you going to make me feel even more like a kid?"

She shrugged. "Remus is just having a hard time is all. It's hard for him. He's scared that he's ruined my life." She smiled at him. "Much like you, Remus has a guilt complex so large that it creates things to feel guilty about where there are none. He'll get over it. He always does." Harry waited for her to continue but she didn't. It was clear that was all she was going to tell him so he moved on to her room, looking for Remus.

Remus answered the door quickly after he knocked. "We need to talk," Harry told him. Remus nodded, clearly distracted and let Harry lead the way to the drawing room. They sat. "There's going to be a Death Eater attack Wednesday at noon on the London Bridge."

Remus stared at him. "How—"

"Don't worry about it," Harry told him. If he was pushed, he'd just tell Remus that he had a vision. Luckily, Remus didn't push. It was nice to be trusted. "The plan is to take down the bridge, killing all the muggles on it."

"What's the approach?"

"So far they have seven people. They plan to blow up one end and set fire to the other." Harry paused.

"Pyro?" Remus asked.

"There's more," Harry said as he nodded. "It's not one hundred percent but Voldemort's thinking about giants."

Remus sighed. "We'll need as many Order members as we can get. Giants aren't easy things to deal with." Harry had yet to face giants in battle. The only giant he had ever even seen was Gawp, Hagrid's brother, who was apparently a small giant. Harry couldn't imagine someone bigger.

"Stunners?" Harry asked.

Remus shook his head. "Not usually strong enough. With enough power though….Four stunners at once can take a giant down. We'll have to organize teams." He thought about it for a few moments but paused, eyes appraising Harry. "What should we do about Pyro?" he finally asked. That was a good question. Harry wanted to tell Remus to let him handle it, that way John wouldn't get hurt. But that would take Harry out of the fight and leave others in danger. John would never go for it. But he had told Harry to stop him.

"I'll handle John." He could stun him or something and quickly re-join the fight. It wouldn't be as simple as that, of course. John couldn't just let himself be stunned. They would figure something out. "Just call a meeting for tomorrow morning."

"In the morning?" Remus asked uncertainly. "Are you sure it's not serious enough to warrant immediate action?"

Harry shrugged. "What's a couple of hours going to do? I need to think things out anyway." Remus seemed to think about arguing but no argument came. Harry was going to leave when he thought about Tonks. "Remus," he wet his lips. How did someone approach something like this? "What happened between you and Tonks?"

Remus didn't look at him. "Tonks is going to live with her parents for the rest of the war," he told Harry. "It's safer." He was, of course, correct. But…

"How about after the war?" he asked. Remus didn't answer. Harry stood. "You've got to be kidding me." He walked away from Remus before turning. "What? You're just going to leave her?"

"It's for her own good," Remus said determinedly.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Her own good?" he asked him incredulously. "You see I think you're doing it for _your_ own good. You're scared."

Remus shook his head, though not in denial. "Harry, no son would want me as a father. I'm a werewolf. I can't even support my own family. With the werewolves supporting Voldemort, I won't be any more trusted after the war than I was before."

Harry ran a hand roughly through his hair, laughing shortly. "No son?" he asked. "Kids would kill to have someone like you as a father. Kids like me, like John. Your son won't care that you're a werewolf. I don't." Harry didn't know what he was doing, comparing himself to Remus's son. It just felt right.

Remus stared at him intently, at a loss for what to say. "Harry." He swallowed. "You don't understand what it's like out there. I—"

"No, I understand. You rather run and hide than face things." He couldn't quite understand why he was getting so angry thinking about this. It was none of his business. Remus's son wasn't even born yet. "You know what, maybe you're right. Maybe you shouldn't be a father. A father doesn't just leave their kids. If you're that type of father than you don't deserve Tonks or her son."

Remus was on his feet, wand out. Harry only looked at him, refusing to take out his wand. Instead he just stared Remus down. "I never knew my dad but even I know that he'd be ashamed to call you his friend," Harry practically growled. "My dad, my mom, they left me because they had to. They loved me so much they died for me. And you? You love your son so much that you'd voluntarily leave him without a dad." Harry didn't turn away from Remus's angry eyes. "You're pathetic." Remus didn't stop him as he stormed out.

* * *

><p>They were going with giants. As quickly as John had moved up the ranks, it was clear he wasn't fully trusted yet. He found out about the giants with everyone else, five minutes before the attack. That didn't mean he hadn't expected it. Voldemort never sent so few Death Eaters on a major attack.<p>

The seven of them were about to leave to meet the giants and their controllers when Voldemort pulled John aside. He handed him a pair of rings. John stared at them.

"What the fuck are these?" he asked, looking up at his father.

Voldemort's lip curled in disgust. "Your manner of speaking is appalling. Muggle profanities." But he didn't continue with the subject. "Those are your great-grandparents wedding bands. I have charmed them to serve as specialized portkeys." John studied them briefly. The rings looked muggle. He turned them over in his hand. Horcruxes? But, no John didn't feel anything from them. When he had touched Slytherin's locket he felt something, he wasn't sure what. Then, the other day he felt the same thing when Nagini brushed against him. He had jumped and he could've sworn that the snake chuckled at him. But he wasn't feeling anything now. Just rings.

He looked up. "And?"

"They will get you to the bridge," Voldemort told him. "And when you are ready to return, they will get you back. That's all they will do." His eyes bore into John's. "I will not have my son dependent on anyone else during his missions, but that does not mean I trust you with unlimited travel."

John rolled his eyes. "Whatever." He brushed past him to re-join the others.

"Bellatrix, from this point you are in charge," Voldemort told her as she came to John's side. John sneered at her and pulled his arm away when she hooked her hand under his elbow. Voldemort watched in amusement before turning to the others. "If circumstances prevent this, you are to follow Pyro's lead." John's eyebrows rose involuntarily. That was a surprise.

"My lord," Lestrange responded, head bowed. "Are you sure that is," he hesitated, "the best mode of action. His is not one of us."

Voldemort peered at him. "In what way do you mean? Is it his loyalty you question or his mutant blood?" Lestrange didn't answer so Voldemort turned to the others. "You are not here to question my judgment. If I say he is loyal then that is the truth. And despite being a mutant," he sneered the word out. John flicked at his lighter wishing he could show him a close-up look at his mutation. "Pyro is my son. He is a descendent of Slytherin. That in itself makes him superior than you. On your way then." But before they could leave, he spoke again. "And Rodolphus be glad I want you for this attack. Do not speak out against my son again."

Lestrange glanced at John who smirked back. His eyes moved to his wife. So this was personal? If John wasn't for touching Bellatrix as little as possible, he'd grab her to rub it in. But another time. There was a battle to pretend to fight.

* * *

><p>Hermione glanced at Harry. "I don't see why I'm up here," she told him, glancing nervously down the side of the building. "I'm no good at flying."<p>

Harry didn't look at her. "You'll only need the broom if they put up anti-apparation wards," he responded. "I don't think they will though. Voldemort thinks he's won. I don't think he feels any threat from us. Not anymore."

Hermione shook her head. "From us? No. From you? Definitely."

Harry shrugged. "I'm a nuisance, not a threat. At least not yet."

They didn't speak any further. He was right. But from the way he said that, it seemed as if he was ready to change that. She sighed. Things were tough now. Harry wasn't talking to her, at least not about anything not war related. He was so caught up in the war that she felt as if she lost her best friend. On top of the fact that they still hadn't heard from Ron or Hogwarts, it was almost unbearable. She heard the chiming when noon arrive. She breathed. This was it.

The giants were the first thing she saw. It seemed as if the muggle world froze before going into chaos. Cars started accelerating backwards, banging into each other. Horns and screams filled the air. Then the Death Eaters appeared.

"Shit," Harry muttered, straightening up.

"What?" Hermione asked, scanning the area.

"John's on the other side," Harry told her, pulling out his wand. Hermione touched his arm.

"Harry, you're going to have to let Remus deal with him then," she told him. He glanced at her before nodding.

"Ready?" He didn't wait for an answer, casting the white stage into the air. That was the signal. It was time to fight. As soon as they apparated into the fight, the curses began to fly. Her eyes wandered briefly towards the giants still a safe distance away.

"Ignore them," Harry barked. "They're not our job."

Hermione nodded though she knew he wouldn't see her and engaged the closest Death Eater into a duel. She heard a large bang. A car went over the side of the bridge. She saw fire erupt in her periphery. Pyro had started on the other end, but that couldn't be her concern.

She and Harry worked in tandem. Her stunner took out her Death Eater. Harry grabbed her. "Get the muggles out," he told her, gesturing to the side where a car full of muggles watched in horror. A mother and two children.

"But—"

He wouldn't let her continue. "Hermione, go. I can take care of myself. We have to save whoever we can." She saw the determination in his eyes. Nodding, she headed straight for the car. This was about saving lives as much as fighting back, she told herself.

She unlocked the door and swung it open, holding her hands up. "It's okay," Hermione told the muggles. "I'm here to help me. Trust me."

The woman in the driver's seat bit her lip. "Get them out of here," she begged, picking up the smallest child. The girl couldn't be more than two. Hermione lifted the girl out of the car and grabbed the little boy's hand.

"I'll be back for you," Hermione told the mother. She couldn't confidently apparate all three of them. Not muggles. She couldn't risk it. The woman nodded, her eyes tearing as she looked at her children. Hermione disapparated.

She re-appeared in an alley near the closest police station. "Go," she ordered but the little girl wouldn't let go. Hermione looked at the brother. He had to be about ten years old. "Go to your brother." Somehow between herself and the boy, Hermione managed to get the little girl out of her arms. "Take good care of her."

She disapparated, appearing next to the car again but the woman was no longer there. Hermione ran to the other side of the car, ducking a spell. She took cover behind the car. Her eyes landed on a body: the mother.

Hermione breathed out, scanning the area. She couldn't see Harry. A few of the Weasleys were nearby battling a giant. They seemed to have it covered. Her eyes found another carful of muggles. She would do the job Harry assigned her.

* * *

><p>"Go," Remus ordered. "I have this." Bill looked at him warily but nevertheless took the order. Remus's eyes squinted into the fire's glare where he could just barely make out John. There was a lot of fire but very little damage. What was he waiting for? Maybe a part of John didn't like the killing. Remus shook the thought from his head. This was already going to be hard enough without thoughts like that in his head.<p>

"John," Remus called when he felt he was within hearing range. The fire died down.

"Remus," John responded. He played with the fire in his hand. He was ready to fight. Remus's spotted a few small fires around them. John had plenty of fuel. "Fancy meeting you here."

"You knew it was only a matter of time until we caught up with you," Remus moved his wand ever so slightly. John followed the motion with his eyes for a moment before looking back up at Remus.

"How's Harry?" he asked, mockingly pleasant. He began wandering over to his right almost absentmindedly. John would never learn to stand still, especially when there was fire in his line of vision. He put out the fire in his hand as he reached a burning car (already empty Remus was relieved to note). John placed his hands over the fire as if warming himself, but the flame reached up over his hands.

"He'll survive," Remus said, keeping his voice neutral.

John looked at him. "He always does." He glanced down the bridge. "I suppose he's down there, huh?" Remus didn't follow. He couldn't be sure that John wouldn't attack him. It was no secret that John had no qualms over fighting dirty. Remus couldn't hold back and survive, but this was the last thing he wanted to do. He had known that he cared for John but when did he start to feel so attached? Like a father, Remus thought as he remembered Harry's words.

"Why?" Remus couldn't help asking.

There was something in John's eyes as he looked at him. "I'm not a good guy," John told him.

"You're the only one keeping you from being one," Remus replied, taking a step forward. "John, come back with us. You know Harry would forgive you."

John stared at him. "Harry couldn't forgive killing. You know that."

"If you were anyone else, I'd agree," Remus took another tentative step forward. John summoned fire into his hand as if in warning. "Please, John." He swallowed. "I won't let anything happen to you."

The fire flared as John sneered. "Don't make empty promises." He glanced down the bridge again, perhaps trying to spot Harry. When he looked back, Remus saw that look in his eyes, the one he got when he got lost in the fire. His grasp tightened on his wand.

"John please," he said again.

John eyed the flame before smirking. "It's Pyro."

Remus barely kept the fire from reaching him.

"Augamenti!"

It was a battle of wills but the fire was overwhelming. Remus had to somehow get another spell off. He had to take out John, but he didn't want to hurt him.

"John! Stop!" he tried.

John laughed. "Come on, Remus. Don't hold back. I broke Harry's heart. Shouldn't you be protecting him?"

The fire almost reached Remus's hands. He had to move. Breaking off the spell, he dodged out of the way. "Stupefy!" John barely got out of the way.

"John, you're not your father's son," Remus said as they slowly circled each other.

"No," John agreed. "I'm my own man." On instinct Remus brought up a shield which thankfully stopped the oncoming stream of fire. He closed his eyes for a moment. It was time to make the hard decision.

He made a slashing motion with his wand, aiming through the fire and hoping it would make contact. The fire stopped. John grasped at his side, coming away with blood.

"That's going to scar," John hissed, glaring. "Again." He shoved his hand in his pocket as he launched another stream of fire at Remus. This time it made brief contact on his arm. Remus let out a grunt as he quickly put the fire out. When he looked back up, John was gone. That left the Death Eaters and the giants. But the battle had died down. Bill, Arthur, and Amos were just finishing subduing a giant in restraints. Remus met them just as the giant stopped struggling.

"How about we let the so-called Ministry handle this," Arthur said as he looked around at the damage.

"Couldn't agree more," Remus said, watching as Harry and Hermione approached. Harry had a cut along his scalp. "Had some bad luck?"

Harry shrugged. "In my defense the giant was like three times my size." Remus smiled at him. "John?"

"Got away," Remus admitted. Harry nodded. "Time to go." They returned to headquarters.

Narcissa and Molly met them immediately, looking for injuries. All injuries were superficial. This time the Order had outnumbered the Death Eaters. Remus spotted Tonks come in to tend the wounded as well. Obviously she decided against a prolonged visit with her parents. Narcissa came over to tend his burn.

"I take it that you faced Pyro," she said, pulling a potion out. He looked at it. "I thought I would eventually have to treat some burns."

"Good thinking," Remus sent her a smile. "He held back."

"So I see," Narcissa said as she rubbed the potion onto his arm. "He's fond of you."

"Unfortunately it's not black and white, is it?" Remus asked sighing.

"No, it isn't." She paused for a moment. "Did you see my husband?"

Remus shook his head. "No." She nodded, asking no more questions. Remus glanced over her shoulder where Tonks and Hermione were fussing over Harry. The cut on his head wasn't bad but he looked tired. Remus was interrupted by Amos who nodded in acknowledgment towards Narcissa.

"That boy," Amos said as he followed Remus's line of vision. "It took three of us to take down a giant. Potter took one out by himself."

Remus stared at him as Narcissa let out an unlady-like snort. She sounded like Tonks for a moment. "Yes, that boy, somehow under threat of death he does the impossible." She finished with his arm.

"Thank you. Excuse me," he sent her a smile as he brushed past her. Harry avoided his eyes as he spotted Remus's approach. But Remus wasn't there to speak to Harry.

"Tonks, do you think I can talk to you for a moment?" he asked tentatively. She looked at him for a moment.

"Sure," she responded. As they left, Remus glanced back at Harry who watched them go. Harry nodded at him. All in all, it wasn't a bad day.

* * *

><p>Screaming got old fast, John decided as he watched his father torture follower by follower. Bellatrix got the worst of it. She had failed. They had done barely any damage. Harry made sure of it.<p>

Finally, it was John's turn. "Really bad idea," he sneered at as Voldemort began to raise his wand.

"You failed," Voldemort hissed.

"No, you're plan failed," John responded, flicking his lighter. "Harry outsmarted you. We were outnumbered."

Voldemort's red eyes shun in anger. "I cannot be blamed for my followers' incompetence."

John raised his eyebrows. "Incompetence?" He ignited his lighter. "I'm not fucking incompetent you jackass."

Voldemort hissed but he didn't attack. He wasn't stupid. Torturing John wouldn't do him any good. In fact, it would hurt him. John didn't fear him. Loyalty had to be earned. "Watch your mouth," Voldemort snapped instead.

"Whatever," John rolled his eyes. "Now can I stop the bleeding in my side?"

"This is not the time to act like a petulant teenager," Snape said from the doorway. He held a few potions which he began to hand out. Of course Snape wouldn't deign to tend to anyone.

John eyed the man as he held out a bottle to him. "That's not going to do me any good," John growled.

"It's peroxide," Snape told him, handing over a towel and some gauze. He turned towards Voldemort. "My lord, Pyro is right. There was no way they could succeed being so outnumbered."

"But how did they find out?" Malfoy asked. "They were waiting."

"Have a temper tantrum lately?" John asked his father sarcastically.

"What do you mean?" he responded.

"Harry's been getting into your head. Unintentionally, of course. That's how we found out about Hogsmeade." Hopefully, Voldemort would guard his thoughts more carefully now. With John here, torturous visions held no benefit for Harry.

Voldemort stared at him. "Are you sure?" His anger at John seemed to have lessened. John had a crazy idea that his father was actually fond of him. Probably a side effect of his narcissistic personality. John was, after all, his spawn. There was no denying that he got special treatment. John pulled his shirt over his head, throwing peroxide on the towel and wiping down his side.

"Remus Lupin," John explained as Snape watched him. "He tried to save me," he continued sarcastically.

"Through cutting you up?" Snape asked.

"He wasn't really into being set on fire," John responded, glancing at his father who seemed to be deep in thought.

"My lord," Lestrange said tentatively. He seemed to have recovered from his recent meeting with the Cruciatus. "About Potter, there's more." Voldemort looked at him and Lestrange averted his eyes. Coward. "He may be more of an adversary that we previously thought. His control of fiendfyre was only the beginning. He took out a giant on his own."

John failed to hide his smirk. Snape raised his eyebrows. John met his eyes. The man had his suspicions but so did he. John wasn't the only spy in Voldemort's ranks.

"Pyro," Voldemort turned to him. "Just how powerful is Potter?"

John shrugged. "What's powerful here? I've seen him launch stuff across a room without a wand. Sometimes in his sleep something may dart across the room. But Harry doesn't want to be powerful. It's kind of a flaw."

"Kind of," Snape snorted.

John grinned at him. "Too bad it doesn't stop him in the end."

"No, it doesn't," Voldemort agreed with a sneer. He became distracted again, staring into the distance. John didn't like the grin that spread across his face. Voldemort looked around the room. "My friends, I think it is time to take Potter down a peg or two." John's stomach dropped as Voldemort looked at him. "Pyro, it's time to pay a visit to Potter's muggle family. Let us send Potter a little message."

John couldn't help it when a grin reached his face. It looked like he was going to get the chance to take revenge on Vernon Dursley after all. This was one mission that he didn't have to fake.


	39. Becoming

_Mutant Son_

Warnings: Slash (not graphic). Strong Language and Suggestive Content. Crossover. Remember, takes some from DH but mostly non-compliant**. Dark, rated M for a reason.** We're getting some dark stuff again this chapter. Stuff that isn't supposed to be forgivable.

**Chapter 39: Becoming**

"We're idiots," Hermione announced. Harry watched as she came hurrying in.

"Thanks?" Harry offered.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Just listen." She turned the volume knob.

"—_no injuries. It's a good week at Hogwarts but that usually means something else is happening on the outside. Since Pyro torched Carrow, extreme punishment is at a minimum—_" Harry looked at her.

"That's Seamus," he said, moving closer to the radio.

"_We've gotten news of the failed Death Eater attack on London Bridge. For those of you who have not realized yet, the real news is in the Quibbler. They're circling around. It's worth getting your hands on it_."

"All this time, they've been broadcasting on the radio," Hermione said, scolding herself. "We've had a way to hear from them all this time."

"Do we talk back or something?" Harry asked her. She seemed unsure.

"We don't have a broadcasting radio," she informed him. "I mean we could probably get one but…the thing is there's no way for us to communicate with them and make sure no one else can hear."

Harry sighed. "So all this gets us is a way to listen in."

Hermione bit her lip. "Well," she paused. "If you wanted, you could broadcast to the wizarding world, too. Give them hope."

He stared at her. "Hermione, I'm not exactly good with words." He thought about it for a moment. "But maybe others are." He stood. "We'll get Remus and the twins together. They can think of something."

Hermione smiled. "Probably for the best. We don't need you ruining the mystique that is Harry Potter."

Harry actually laughed. It felt like the first time in a long time. "Thanks, Hermione. You're great for the confidence."

They found Remus sitting with Tonks and Mrs. Malfoy in the living room. Over the weeks, Mrs. Malfoy had gotten rather close to her niece and had to respect Remus a great deal. Harry had limited contact with her but even he noticed she seemed to be attaching herself more to the Order. It was like she was coming out of her shell. For the first time in her life, she was probably free of her family's views, even their plans for her. And where had she ended up? Filling in for Madam Pomfrey as the Order healer. Harry would've never thought it possible.

Hermione set the radio on the table in front of them. Seamus wasn't broadcasting at the moment so they only stared at Harry and Hermione in confusion.

"We heard from Hogwarts," Hermione said with a smile. "It seems they've been offering updates on wizarding radio."

Remus sat up a little straighter and Tonks gripped his hand. Harry followed the motion, glad that they had fixed things. Remus didn't get to ruin his own happiness. Harry wasn't going to let him.

Hermione glanced at Harry. "We thought that maybe we can get another radio."

Harry nodded. "You and the twins could broadcast something. Daily. Weekly. Whatever."

Mrs. Malfoy studied him. "Potter, don't you think that's something you should be doing?"

Harry only stared at her for a moment before looking at Remus who smiled at him. "I believe Harry's right here. It is probably best that someone else does the broadcasting."

Tonks snorted. "Yeah, otherwise there will be a lot of 'ers' on air. And frankly it's not as endearing without the visual of Harry running his hand through his hair." She playfully pushed a hand through his hair. He looked at her surprised.

"I will talk to the twins about it tonight," Remus informed him as Harry took the tiniest step back. He couldn't help it. He hadn't expected the contact, but he didn't want to hurt Tonks' feelings. Mrs. Malfoy watched him carefully.

"Right," Harry said awkwardly. He stepped away from them all, heading for the hall. "I have to check something out so I'll leave you all to plan."

"Where are you going?" Hermione asked, making a move to follow.

"Don't worry," Harry sent her a reassuring smile. "Nothing dangerous. Just something I have to do."

Harry pulled on his jacket and apparated to the alley behind the post office. He had actually almost forgotten what day it was. Harry nodded at the man behind the window as he made his way to the box. He made sure that the man wasn't paying any closer attention to him than normal. Even if John had chosen a random post office in Muggle London, there was always a chance at being found out. John would be proud; Harry was being cautious.

In the last two weeks, John hadn't reported anything new. Apparently nothing was in the works. In fact, John's notes hadn't had more than a few words on each one. For a writer, John's idea of love letters were pretty simple, something Harry was actually grateful for. Anything more wouldn't fit John. Wouldn't fit them. Harry grabbed the letter and nodded at the man behind the window as he left. Once he reached the alley, he apparated back to his bedroom.

Harry tapped his desk with his wand, unlocking the desk drawer. He pushed John's first few notebooks out of the way, grabbing the last one. He opened this one and placed it on the desk. He studied the letter in his hand. Tearing it open. Last week it was 'Miss you'. The week before, 'Love you'. This week:

"_I'm sorry."_

Harry swallowed.

* * *

><p>"You can leave now," John told Bellatrix, throwing her robes at her.<p>

"You are worse than your father," she informed him grumpily, pulling on her robes.

John wrinkled his nose. "Ew, if there's anything more disgusting than the fact that you've fucked my father, I don't want to hear it. Hell, I didn't even want to hear that."

"No worries little Pyro," Bellatrix said pleasantly as she made her way to the door. "It seems his drive has greatly decreased since his return. If it helps…you are a better lover than him."

John rolled his eyes. "Yeah, because I was worried about that." He pulled on his own pants. She still hadn't left. "What part of leaving don't you get?" he asked. She walked over to him, running a hand down his torso as she reached him. The cut had mostly healed. Remus obviously hadn't wanted to hurt him, just stop him. But then again, hadn't John done the same? Next time, he couldn't hold back. He hadn't meant to hold back then, either, but something stopped him. John really was getting close to too many people. Bobby and Scott was one thing but now there was Harry, Remus, and Hermione, too.

"I wonder, though," she said leaning in towards him. Her hand continued to stroke at his cut. He didn't push her away. "Tell me, how to I compare to your precious Potter?"

"Not any of your business," he responded. He wasn't talking about Harry with her. Her hand sunk lower.

"No?" she asked, slipping her hand into his pants. He couldn't help it, leaning into her touch.

"You don't even compare," he hissed out.

That wasn't what she wanted to hear. He cringed as she squeezed too hard. "Be nice or I won't finish what I started," she taunted.

"You don't want nice," John responded. He grabbed her by her neck, not too hard but enough to cause a little pain. She moaned, the sick hag. He kissed her, thumb pressing against her pulse point. John almost jolted as he realized he was enjoying this. He didn't want to enjoy it. But he was a sick bastard, too. He slipped a hand up her robes and along her thigh.

There was a sudden knocking on the door. John pulled away from her, re-buttoning his pants before opening the door. He should have felt relieved but instead he felt annoyed at the interruption.

"What?" he snapped. His eyes fell on Lestrange. "I was about to fuck your wife. Again."

The man only glared. "The Dark Lord calls. You have a mission tonight or have you forgotten?" His eyes traveled past John to Bellatrix. "You too." Of course, they were going to pay a little visit to the Dursleys.

Bellatrix smiled at her husband as she approached him. "Oh, don't get jealous, dear, it's only a bit of fun."

"Not for him, though," John said, returning to his room to grab his shirt and throw on his shoes. "How long's it been since she's touched you?" he asked as he closed the door behind him. Lestrange practically snarled.

"I wouldn't be boasting. She'll crawl into bed with just about anyone."

"Except apparently you," John offered. He laughed as Lestrange pinned him against the wall. Lestrange wouldn't do anything to him. "That frustrated? I think you're pinning the wrong one to the wall. Have you forgotten how it works?"

Bellatrix giggled and Lestrange glared at her over his shoulder before returning his attention to John. "So cocky," he hissed at him. "But there are rumors. I hear she's not the only one who'll crawl into bed with just about anyone. I bet you begged Potter to do you good."

John tore Lestrange off of him, grabbed his wrist and twisted his arm behind his back, shoving him face first into the wall. "I beg no one," he hissed into Lestrange's ear. "And no one does me, you got that?"

John released him before storming away. Bellatrix ran to catch up to him. "You could have set him on fire, just a little bit," she told him.

"You're fucking nuts, you know that right?" he responded. It would probably turn her on. They got to the meeting hall and John swung the door open. This was going to be fun despite how much it hurt Harry. But he had already apologized for that hadn't he?

* * *

><p>They arrived outside of Number Four Privet Drive. It was exactly how Harry described it. Every house looked the same and reeked with a middle class keeping up with the Jones' feel. John had a sudden desire to burn it all to the ground, but he'd reserve that desire for Number Four.<p>

"Let's go say hello," John said, looking at Bellatrix who had joined him. She smiled. He had wanted to go alone but Voldemort refused to let him. So John had chosen Bellatrix who wouldn't hold back. Not to mention she seemed to enjoy taking orders from him.

John knocked on the door, playing with his lighter as he waited for someone to answer. Bellatrix kept an eye out for Order members or nosy neighbors. The door swung open, revealing a rather skinny middle-aged lady. John had seen a picture of Lily Potter once. Obviously looks was a trait that went to only one of the Evans' sisters.

"Can I help you?" Petunia Dursley asked, eying John down her nose. She already disapproved of him. It was women like her that wouldn't let their kids play with the drunk's son. Bitch. Her eyes traveled to Bellatrix where they froze. She took in Bellatrix's robes. "The boy's not here."

"The boy has a name," John said, pushing his way into the house.

"Vernon!" she called shrilly. Good she was scared. But John wasn't going to harm her. His orders were to leave one of them alive. Someone to tell the tale. Harry would be horrified but John didn't care. All his pretending, he really wanted to see someone burn and that someone would be Vernon Dursley. He was already sparing Petunia Dursley for Harry. His orders were to leave her alive, not unharmed.

A rather fat man rushed into the room. "These are Potter's muggles?" Bellatrix sneered. She eyed them distastefully. "As much as I dislike Potter, I wouldn't wish them on any wizard."

John flicked his lighter open. "You have no idea."

"You, leave my house," Dursley ordered roughly, pushing his wife behind him. She disappeared. His bulk worked better than magic. Now you see her, now you don't, John thought in amusement.

"No need to hide your wife," John informed them. "It's you I'm here for."

"The boy's not here," Dursley repeated his wife's words.

John sneered, palming the flame. Dursley's eyes went wide. "Are you deaf? I said I'm here for you." He pushed the fire out. It didn't make any contact but he hadn't intended it to. Feeling the heat and seeing the flame was enough. He herded the Dursleys into the living room. Bellatrix closed the blinds and placed a silencing charm around the room with a flick of her wand. John used the fire to separate husband and wife. Their eyes were wide in fear. The woman trembled. John held back the grin. To be feared was a great thing.

"Watch her," John ordered Bellatrix who smiled and grabbed Mrs. Dursley by the arm, pulling out her knife and pressing it to her neck. "Don't harm her." Tears began welling up in Mrs. Dursley's eyes.

"Now," John turned back to Dursley. "We want to send a little message to Harry Potter."

"You're that Voldemort's people," Dursley gasped out, sweating from the heat of the fire.

"You dare say his name you filthy muggle," Bellatrix barked out.

John smirked. "I'd avoid saying my father's name if I were you," he told Dursley as he took a step forward. He placed his hand into the fire. When he pulled away, it looked as if his hand was on fire but John couldn't burn. He put the fire on his hand out while letting the one creeping towards Dursley's body grow stronger. Dursley couldn't tear his eyes from the flame. "She doesn't take kindly to it."

"Please," Mrs. Dursley cried out. "Don't hurt my husband."

"Don't hurt your husband?" John asked. "You beg for this piece of shit's life but you let him hurt a little boy?" John turned his eyes towards Dursley, letting his sleeve catch fire. The man screamed and John let the fire recede. "Come on old man, you're going to show me where you put him."

"Why do you care?" Dursley groaned out. Wuss. Even Pettigrew handled this better. It was only a little fire. John hadn't even gotten started yet. "If you are…that man's son what do you care about Harry?"

"So you know his name, do you?" John growled, grabbing the man's arm and twisting it behind his back. Vernon Dursley was a lot larger than John but the X-Men had taught him how to handle men of his size. Somehow John didn't think they intended for him to use that knowledge for this. John shoved the man towards the stairs. They paused in front of the cupboard. John eyed it. "Open it," he ordered.

Dursley scrambled to open the door. The cupboard was tiny, only enough room for a cot. If anyone sat up too quickly they'd bang their head on a shelf and any clothes hanging up would skim the sleeper's feet. John spotted a little toy soldier on the shelf.

"Did you know, Bellatrix? This man treated a wizard, his superior," John hissed, "like an animal."

"Disgusting," she responded. "He should burn. Please Pyro, let me see you burn him."

Mrs. Dursley began to sob. "Please, why? Harry's your enemy."

"No," John growled at her. "He's my ex-boyfriend."

"The boy's a fag?" Dursley grasped out, beady eyes shining with hatred. Wow, he was an idiot. Dursley really should be focusing on his own survival right about now. "A freak. Worse than his parents before him."

John lit the man's arm on fire. Nothing too strong. He wasn't ready for him to pass out. "Freak?" John asked. "Fag? You know, I really don't appreciate you're language." John lit him on fire again. He would burn slowly. Mrs. Dursely sobbed as her husband screamed. John grinned.

* * *

><p>"Harry!" Bill practically skidded into the kitchen. Harry stood.<p>

"What?" he asked, grabbing his wand.

"It's the Dursleys. The Dark Mark," Bill breathed out. Harry froze for a moment. Whatever it was, it was bad. And John was behind it. "The Order members on guard didn't see it coming. They kept the police away but they haven't gone inside yet."

"Bill, go get Remus. Hermione, stay here," Harry ordered. She tried to argue as Bill rushed out of the room. "No arguments. Whatever it is, Hermione, it's bad. You don't need to see it."

"I really wish you'd stop trying to protect me," she sighed.

"What good would it do for you to see this?" he asked her.

"Let someone else handle it, Harry," Hermione said pleadingly. "I don't need to see this? You don't."

"Do you listen to yourself?" Harry asked. "Who here is trying to protect whom?"

Remus and Bill entered the room. "Bill told me," Remus said, eyes checking Harry over. "Who's going?"

"Me and you," Harry said, meeting his eyes. He was fine. "No reason to involve anyone else. Back up is already on the scene." Remus nodded. "On three?" Harry asked as he steeled himself. "One, two, three."

They appeared in front of the house. Harry ignored the familiarity he felt as they were approached by two Order members. A blonde and Amos Diggory. "We haven't entered," the woman with blonde hair told Harry. He really should learn all the Order's names but he was never good like that.

Harry nodded. "Good. Wait out here. We'll call you if we need you." Remus followed as Harry entered the house. There was a familiar smell.

"Burnt flesh," Remus said quietly. Harry's stomach twisted. John had been there. What did he do? What had he apologized for? They heard sobs from the living room.

They rushed in. Aunt Petunia was huddled in the corner, eyes staring terrified across the room. Harry followed her eyes, finding a rather large burnt body. Extra crispy, he couldn't help think morbidly. He made his way to the body. Uncle Vernon was dead. Very dead.

It didn't look like a pleasant death. John had done this. Harry felt nauseous but not at the smell. He had never wanted to think John capable. This was different than Pettigrew. John tortured him because they had to. Despite his apology, John enjoyed this one. Harry was horrified but he held it in.

"John…" Remus trailed off, staring at the body. He obviously felt the same as Harry. They both knew this wasn't something John could come back from. Remus would think this was a sign that John was officially dark. That there was no saving him. Harry knew differently. John would try his best not to regret this but it would eat him alive. Just another reason to think of himself as the bad guy. And something in Harry was starting to agree. How could Harry love someone capable of this?

Harry stood up and walked over to Aunt Petunia. He knelt before her. She stared at him. For the first time, he saw complete hatred in her eyes. As badly as she had treated him, she had never hated him. Not until this moment.

"They killed him," Aunt Petunia told him. "Because of you. They said they were sending you a message, that more people will die if you continue your resistance." That was Voldemort's motive, but John's was different. For John this was revenge. Nobody touched what was his, Harry thought, resisting the urge to throw up his dinner.

"I'm sorry." Harry couldn't meet her eyes. What could an apology do? He didn't even know how sorry he was. He was sorry that Uncle Vernon had suffered but he couldn't be sorry that the man was dead. He never wished his uncle dead but he couldn't deny that he felt a momentary satisfaction. And it made him sick. Was he so different than John? Yes, Harry decided. Some people deserved to burn, what made him better than those people as that he didn't give them what they deserved. Hadn't he told John that once?

"Sorry?" she asked in disbelief.

Harry ignored her words as he took in her shaking body. "Are you okay? Did they hurt you?" Besides the nick in her neck, she seemed to only be in shock.

"No, they didn't touch me," Aunt Petunia sobbed. "That boy wouldn't let her."

Bellatrix, Harry guessed. So it was just the two of them. Harry placed a hand on her shoulder. She flinched away and Harry leaned back on his heels. He wouldn't push it. He never wanted any harm to come to her. She was his only family, but that didn't stop him from hating her, too. However, Harry would do for her what he would do for anyone, even if she didn't deserve it.

"Remus," he called. Remus pulled himself away from the body and to Harry. "Take care of her please. She doesn't want anything to do with me." Remus nodded, moving in to comfort Aunt Petunia who amazingly let him. People couldn't help but trust Remus. Until they found out he was a werewolf, that was.

Harry left the house, meeting up with the two Order members. "Get the muggle police in," he ordered. "Convince them it was a robbery. Vernon Dursley died from a bullet to the head."

The blonde nodded but Mr. Diggory looked at him carefully. "What really happened?"

Harry met his eyes, keeping all emotion off his face. "Voldemort sent me a message. He's gunning for me now."

"How did Dursley die?" Mr. Diggory pushed.

"Pyro burnt him alive," Harry said. "I wouldn't go in there if I were you." His eyes traveled to the house again where Remus was herding Aunt Petunia out. "I'll clean up. I've seen it before."

"Potter," Mr. Diggory called as Harry walked back towards the house. Harry turned. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Harry asked, offering a smile. He suspected that it came out more as a grimace. "That my ex-boyfriend just brutally murdered my uncle? Really that's just more of the same in my life." He had showed too much emotion, he realized as Mr. Diggory looked at him sadly and the blonde avoided looking at him all together.

Harry turned away and made his way into the house. He tried to ignore the smell as he approached his uncle's body. He knelt. "So what do you think of cremation?" Harry asked the body almost lightly. Probably not too well, he thought. It was fire that killed him after all. But it was the best way to clean up the body. It took merely seconds for the body to burn away. Harry's control would do John proud. Looking around, Harry spotted a pink vase with daisies on it which he summoned. He studied it for a moment before tapping his wand on it a few times. There, an urn. A bit flowery still but it would do. He moved the ashes into the urn. He stood and placed the urn on the mantle. It was time to leave. He'd let the others deal with the police. He felt blank. He hadn't even blinked at burning away the rest of his uncle's body.

Harry felt a hysterical laugh fight its way out. It looks like he really did have to clean up John's mess. This wasn't Bobby's job anymore because Harry had done this, had placed John in this position. He pulled himself together.

He left the house. "Ready?" he asked Remus. His eyes met his aunt's. He was about to speak again, perhaps to apologize. But how could he apologize? Her husband had been killed because of him.

"I think I should stay," Remus said, looking down at Aunt Petunia.

Harry nodded before he turned away but his aunt's voice reached him before he could disapparate. "You should've never been born. You just get people around you killed."

Harry paused. "I know." He disapparated.

* * *

><p>Hermione knocked tentatively on the door to Harry's room. "Harry," she called as she opened the door.<p>

The door to the bathroom was open and Harry was on the floor, sitting against the tub. He watched her as she approached. "Thought I was going to be sick," he told her. "Turns out my stomach is stronger than that."

"You're still sitting on the bathroom floor," she pointed out softly.

He shrugged. "Just to be safe."

Hermione studied him for a moment before sinking to the ground next to him. She hadn't realized Harry was back until Remus returned. He hadn't stayed long after Harry had left, he explained to Hermione. Apparently, Remus couldn't bring himself to comfort a woman who just told her nephew that he should have never been born. Hermione couldn't blame him. As for the rest of what happened, all Remus said was John's name. He didn't say anything else, only retreating to his wife's arms. Whatever it was had to be bad.

"Remus tell you?" Harry asked.

"Not much," she said, wondering if she should put a hand on his knee or something. But Harry had retreated into his personal space bubble. She could practically see it floating around him. "What your aunt told you before you left and something about John."

Harry nodded, silent for a moment. "John killed my uncle. Voldemort's orders but somehow I don't think he needed much urging." No, he probably didn't. All possible motives led to John not minding killing Vernon Dursley in the least. At least this new John. Pyro. "They had a message for me. As long as I resist he's going to keep killing people."

"How is that different than what he already is doing?" Hermione asked curiously.

Harry looked at her. "He's going to make it personal," he informed her cautiously. "Hurt people I care about."

"Did they say that?"

Harry shook his head. "I just know. I think I've seen enough of Voldemort to know that's what he'd do."

He probably was right. Though she didn't like the idea that Harry could understand Voldemort, she couldn't deny it. Harry was too good at guessing his next moves. At least most of the time. The night at the Department of Mysteries was a glaring exception.

"Ron?" she asked tentatively.

"No," Harry said firmly. "John won't let him hurt Ron, especially if he's asked to do it. Not unprovoked. Ginny…" he trailed off. "I don't know about Ginny," he admitted.

"Harry, John's not exactly…" She wet her lips. "He's not the same."

"No," Harry shook his head. "He is the same. He's falling into the worst parts of his personality but everything is the same." He looked at her carefully. "People don't just change, Hermione. You were wrong about that. They were always capable of whatever it is they do. Circumstances change, people don't. Not completely."

And if that wasn't philosophical. She didn't expect it from Harry. Honestly, she often underestimated his intelligence though she would never underestimate his ability or instinct. But Harry had seen enough to learn something of the world.

"But Ginny?" Hermione asked, remembering his words earlier. "Why is she different?"

Harry stared determinedly at the ground. "I said unprovoked. John hates Ginny. She had me first or some nonsense like that."

It was nonsense but she couldn't deny that John's mind worked like that. "He'll still form motives around you," Hermione agreed. "Love just doesn't go away."

"Tell me about," Harry laughed though it was choked. "We need to end this war, Hermione," he looked up at her. "We need to get to the Horcruxes. I need to stop him."

He didn't mean just Volemort anymore. "We don't know where to start," she informed him gently.

Harry shook his head as he stood. "Not for sure but it's time for some guess work."

"What do you mean?" she asked, following as he grabbed a jacked.

He turned to her suddenly and she had to stop short to keep from banging into him. "We're going to check places that were important to him. The Gaunts, the Riddles, maybe even the orphanage."

"Do you really think we'll find anything?" Hermione asked. She was starting to feel like she was conducting an interview with all the questions she was asking.

"I don't know," Harry sighed. "But we have to try."

He was almost out the door when she stopped him. "Not tonight, Harry. It's late," she said as gently as she could.

"Doesn't matter," Harry shook his head firmly. "Voldemort doesn't care that it's late."

"Even he sleeps," she continued. For the first time she broke into his personal space, gently taking his hand. She was surprised when he let her pull him in. Hermione hugged him tight. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Harry whispered.

"Everything." Hermione pulled away and led him to the bed. Most of the fight had left him and he let her sit him down. "Just get some rest. We'll start tomorrow."

Harry nodded his head. The Harry Potter persona had fallen and there was only Harry now. It hit her that she had never seen Harry cry. Even now, he looked lost but there were no tears. If he wasn't crying, Hermione wouldn't, even if she lost a friend today. It was definite now. John was gone.

Sighing, Hermione pushed Harry into bed and crawled in next to him. His body stiffened. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"Staying," she replied. She laid her head on his pillow. This was the first time she slept in a guy's bed, but it was Harry.

"I'm fine, Hermione," Harry said, refusing to look at her.

"Liar," she responded. "Now just go to sleep."

Harry looked at her. "I've only ever slept with John."

Hermione smiled at him. She couldn't help it. "I'm not seducing you, Harry."

"I know that," he rolled his eyes. "I meant in the literal sense."

Hermione had slept in her parents' bed when she was very little, when she had nightmares or when she was just lonely. But Harry never had that. Never had anyone to hold onto at night when things got too scary. Not until John. But now it was John who left Harry needing comfort. John had done this.

She didn't know what to say. "Just go to sleep," she repeated. Hermione was going to leave it at that but she felt as if she needed to say something more. "And Harry, there are people here that love you. John will never be the only one."

Harry said nothing as Hermione got comfortable. He barely moved as she laid her head down on his chest. She should've felt awkward but this was Harry and somehow it wasn't, though she was sure he was feeling awkward. But he let her get comfortable and soon he wasn't as stiff anymore even if he made no movement towards her.

Hermione felt him laugh more than she heard it. "What?" she asked.

Harry gave her a small smile. "Well at least now I can say I've slept with a girl. Probably shouldn't tell Ron."

"No, probably not," she agreed, smiling back at him.

* * *

><p>All John wanted to do was shower. He smelt of burnt flesh and sex. It really wasn't attractive at all, but his father didn't seem to care. He seemed to think that an hour was enough time for John to get himself together again. It probably would've been if John didn't decide to screw around with Bellatrix again instead of shower. Depending on how long his father talked at him for, it still could be considered worth it. Maybe. John was disgusted with himself.<p>

"You wanted to see me?" John asked as he threw himself into the armchair across from his father. Voldemort actually exchanged glances with his snake. Creepy. "Don't talk to that thing while I'm here."

"That thing?" Voldemort asked, stroking the snake who leaned into his touch. "_Nagini leave us_." The snake slithered away and out the door. John was really beginning to dislike snakes. "Be lucky that you said that in English or she would be quite angry with you. You do not want an angry Nagini." John stared at him. "Did you not know?" Voldemort smiled. "You slip into parseltongue in our company more often than not." Wasn't that just dandy, John thought crankily at his father.

"Can we make this quick?" John asked. "I want to shower."

"I gave you plenty of time," Voldemort responded, leaning back into his chair. Like he was in a throne. "If you hadn't taken that time to fool around with Bellatrix, that is."

John shrugged. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Indeed," Voldemort responded. He smiled again. John really hated that smile. It made him feel like prey for a giant snake. Actually, that would explain his hatred for snakes. His dad made him hate beards and his father made him hate snakes. It was a visual association thing. John decided to stop examining his own psych before he came to any more conclusions. Like about tonight.

"Tell me, Pyro," Voldemort continued. "How do you enjoy Bellatrix's company? She was always quite enjoyable in bed but I fear her devotion gets irritating quickly."

John stared at him. "That's the second time today I got the image of you two together." It had to be a conspiracy to make him throw up. Yeah, he'd let his father hear that, too. "I'm not here to talk about my sex life, and definitely not yours, so can we get down to whatever it is you want to speak to me about."

"I simply wish to know how it went," Voldemort said. "If you were any other follower, you would report to me as soon as the job was done. I expected Bellatrix to at least report but if she was with you, that does explain her absence."

John hadn't even thought about reporting in. He had been too caught up in the fire, in Bellatrix, in revenge. John doubted he was thinking straight at the time. "It went fine," he answered finally. "I gave Vernon Dursley a slow death and his wife a front row seat."

"And you gave her the message?" Voldemort asked, folding his hands across his lap. Were nails that long really necessary?

John rolled his eyes. "Yeah."

"Good," Voldemort responded. John thought it was a dismissal so he stood to leave, but his father stopped him. "One more thing Pyro." John sat back down. "Tell me, did you do this for me or for Potter?" John wasn't quite sure how to answer that. "Bellatrix informed me that your focus seemed to be on what they did to Potter though I am blurry on the details of exactly what that was."

"I thought you didn't speak to Bellatrix," John snapped. He didn't appreciate being played.

"That is correct," Voldemort studied him. "Though she is quite skilled at Occlumency, her shields have always been weaker when she's worn out." After sex. So he had read her mind after she left John. He really hoped that Bellatrix hadn't been thinking about them. John pushed that thought out of his head. Not going to think about that one. "I am waiting for an answer, Pyro." John felt the attempt at breaking into his mind, so he let his father see the events at Privet Drive. But it didn't lessen Voldemort's curiosity. He continued to study John.

"It was revenge," John told him finally. "For ever touching, hurting what's mine." It was in essence true though it would probably ring truer if worded in a less sociopathic way. But John was going for sociopath here.

"And Harry Potter is still yours?" Voldemort asked. John still felt him in his mind, so he let him.

"Always," John told him. But he wouldn't let Voldemort know what he truly meant by that.

"Yes," Voldemort said. John didn't recognize the look on his face. "You are indeed my son. I must admit, I have always been possessive. What was mine once is always mine. Keep that in mind Pyro." He met John's eyes challengingly. "I can have Bellatrix any time I want."

John stood. What was she? Territory? First Lestrange, then Voldemort. He wasn't about to get in a pissing contest for her. "You can have her. She's only a convenient lay." Perhaps it would be best if Voldemort re-claimed her. John was getting to the point where he actually initiated things with her for his own satisfaction, not for the con. The role was becoming too comfortable. Every day he felt more and more like the Dark Lord's son.

But that wasn't necessarily a bad thing all the time, John decided as he left. It had its benefits. John had enjoyed seeing Vernon Dursley scream in pain. He deserved it just like anyone else who touched Harry. It really was a shame that Harry was the one who would have to kill Voldemort. Harry wouldn't make him suffer enough. Not that John would ever let Harry do that. John didn't know what he was becoming but he knew Harry would never have to get close to what John was. Even if Harry didn't let him, John was going to protect him. Even if Harry couldn't forgive him. John knew that the things he was doing were things that Harry could never forgive. And he regretted everything he had done so far. Wished he hadn't done them. Everything but what he did tonight to Vernon Dursley. He ignored the feeling in the pit of his stomach.


	40. Outed

_Mutant Son_

A.N. Thank you reviewers. I mean really, really thank you. It lets me know that people are still enjoying the story. Shorter chapter this time but a lot of things going on to make up for it. Not much left in the story now.

**Chapter 40: Outed**

John took a swig. He had no idea what he was drinking but it was strong. It would do its purpose. Either he'd get too drunk to think or pass out. He looked out into the darkness. The air was getting warmer. Spring. Bobby and he always spent the first warm night of the year on the roof getting wasted. He really wished that Bobby was here.

He had another dream last night. Nightmare. He watched himself killing Dursley over and over again. Why was he dwelling on this? The man deserved it. "Fucking conscious," he mumbled. It was all Bobby's fault. Or Harry's. He wasn't sure when he grew a conscious.

There were footsteps to his right. John looked over, eyes landing on Snape before his attention returned to his drink. "I didn't think you were the type to climb onto roofs in the middle of the night."

Snape stood watching him. "The things we do for our cover," he stated. John looked over again as he took another drink.

"Finally admitting to it?"

"I am confident of your loyalties," Snape said, taking a seat. That gave John pause. Snape didn't seem like a guy to sit on a roof. He was a piss poor stand in for Bobby anyway. Plus, John didn't actually like the man. He was a shitty spy and a shitty human for picking on a kid like John was sure Harry had been.

"It took torture and murder to convince you," John snorted. "Cheers to your warped mind." He tipped the bottle towards Snape before taking another drink. Snape eyed the bottle.

"I never had a doubt of your loyalties," Snape informed him. "Neither did Dumbledore."

"Fuck Dumbledore," John announced a little too loudly. Snape glared. John was pretty sure he was drunk. "Why are we even talking about this?"

Snape remained quiet for a moment. "While I do not doubt your loyalties, I do wonder. Can you handle this?"

John glared. "Of course I can fucking handle this." He viciously took a swig from the bottle. His vision was getting a little weird, like the world was truly rotating on its axis ever so slowly. Good. "I'm not the one hiding out for the right time or whatever it is you're doing."

Snape studied him. "You informed the Order of the attack on the bridge."

"I informed Harry," John corrected. "The Order doesn't know."

"And did you inform him of your attack on his family?" Snape asked. John didn't answer. Snape already knew the answer to that. But John had apologized. Before it even happened. A true apology. It was easier to do on paper. "This is a slippery slope, Pyro."

John rolled his eyes. But it made him dizzy. "My tolerance is shit," he decided.

Snape's black eyes appraised him. "You have gone through most of the bottle. I doubt tolerance is the issue." John peered at the bottle. So he had. He took another long drink, trying to finish it off. "Maybe you have had enough."

John snorted. "It's not enough until everything fades away."

"Return to your room. Get some sleep." Snape stood. "You won't last like this." He stood there for a moment. "You may want to ask Bellatrix about the things she's hiding in her Gringotts vault." Then he disapparated. The bastard hadn't even climbed up here and had the gall to be cryptic. Fucking wizards. John returned his eyes to the dark woods. Harry was probably staring out his bedroom window right now. He was losing faith in John at that very moment. It was only a matter of time really. People always gave up on him. No one ever had a reason like Harry's though. Regret wasn't enough.

* * *

><p>Harry let the breeze flow in through the open window, staring out into the street. He heard Hermione shifting in her sleep, but she didn't wake up. He didn't feel like talking. He didn't feel like thinking. All Harry wanted was to either sleep or do something. The high he had felt after the bridge was gone. When they had started this, Harry doubted whether John could handle this. He decided to trust him. He'd been wrong.<p>

But hadn't John promised that he would kill Harry's uncle if he ever met him? Yet John had apologized and John didn't do apologies. He knew what he was doing was wrong. Accepted it. Even right now, John was probably doing something incredibly destructive to forget about it. His coping mechanisms really did suck.

Sighing, Harry stood. He needed to get out of this room. The room he had shared with John. He slipped out of his room, careful not to wake Hermione, and made his way downstairs to the basement. It wasn't empty. He paused. "What are you doing here, Malfoy?" Harry asked, eying him where he sat on the table. The table where Harry had fake seduced him.

"I heard," Malfoy said. "I figured you'd come down here eventually. Granger probably attempted to suffocate you."

Harry rolled his eyes, thinking about leaving but paused. He looked at Malfoy suspiciously. "That doesn't really explain why you're down here." Malfoy didn't answer. Harry sat himself down roughly on the bottom steps. He ran his hands through his hair. "Malfoy…" he trailed off. "Whatever it is you feel for me, stop." Malfoy sneered but Harry interrupted him before he could even open his mouth. "Don't lie to me, Malfoy. You're getting all odd." He couldn't think of better words.

"Don't take it too seriously," Malfoy said hesitantly. "I'm stuck in a house with you and ironically enough, you're one of the only people around here that I can stand. And amazingly Granger and that werewolf."

"Couldn't you crush on Hermione then?" Harry suspected that it came out as a whine. Malfoy wrinkled his nose. "John's right, you're gay. No interest in women at all." Malfoy didn't argue. Harry stood, studying him one last time, prepared to leave. "Listen, John's the only thing I can think about. I doubt that's going to change."

Malfoy stared at him in disbelief. "He tortured and killed your uncle."

"Yeah, well, you don't see me shedding any tears," Harry said roughly. "I didn't want him dead but hell if I'm going to mourn him."

Malfoy shook his head. "That guy. You would forgive him for anything, wouldn't you? No matter how bad."

Harry didn't answer. He wasn't sure what to say. Some things shouldn't be forgivable. But when it came down to it he wasn't sure if he could ever not forgive John. There was no way he was going to let Malfoy judge him though.

* * *

><p>Harry emerged from the bathroom thankfully fully clothed, toweling his hair dry. He paused, sending Hermione a small smile. It wasn't quite convincing but if he wanted to play that game, Hermione couldn't stop him.<p>

"As soon as you're ready, we're heading out," he informed her. She combed a hand through her hair.

"I'm ready," she yawned. She glanced down at herself. "Actually let me change." Hermione made it quick, running to her room and throwing on fresh clothes. When she opened her door, Harry was waiting patiently outside. There were dark shadows under his eyes. It was clear he hadn't slept.

"Where are we going?" she asked, grabbing his arm, ready for apparation.

"The graveyard," Harry said. The graveyard only ever meant one thing: Tom Riddle Sr.'s grave. Where Voldemort returned. Her stomach turned. She braced herself as they disapparated.

The graveyard was rundown. Clearly no one bothered to take care of it. But it was a sunny morning and nothing felt out of the ordinary. It seemed too normal for the place Harry still had nightmares about. Harry detached himself from her and wandered over to the grave. He paused, glancing down at a spot. Was that where Cedric was killed?

Harry continued towards the grave. He circled it. Hermione followed him. She stood aside, waiting for him. "What are we looking for?" she asked.

"Nothing," he sighed before kicking the dirt. "There's nothing here. I can't feel a thing."

Hermione placed a hand on his shoulder but he shrugged it off. She mimicked his sigh. "You didn't actually expect to find anything here, did you?"

She studied the determined set to his jaw before turning to her own thoughts. Truthfully, she was getting worried about Harry's connection to You-Know-Who and the Horcruxes. Really worried.

"We're not done," he told her, taking her hand. She followed after him. Well, more specifically Harry dragged her after him.

"Where are we going now?" Hermione asked, tripping on a stone. "Ow," she mumbled absentmindedly.

Harry didn't stop. "The Riddle house," he said. It wasn't far, on the edge of town. It didn't even take five minutes to get there. While the house was a little better taken care of than the graveyard, it still looked shabby, the grass overgrown. Her skin prickled as they entered.

They wandered around the first floor. Hermione felt uneasy but she chalked it up to nerves or residual magic. She headed into the dining room as Harry climbed the stairs. She had no idea what she was looking for, hoping that she would know when she saw it. But that seemed to be Harry's thing.

Hermione kept an eye out for cups in particular but nothing struck her eye. She heard movement behind her. Sighing, she turned. "Harry, I don't think—" She stopped abruptly. That wasn't Harry. In fact, that was three not Harry's. She recognized Greyback. Hermione went for her wand but she had hesitated too long.

"Expelliarmus," the disheveled man in the middle said almost lazily. Her wand flew out of her hand. She grabbed the nearest object, chucking it and sprinting towards the door. She opened her mouth, ready to shout to Harry but another man grabbed her, covering her mouth. She struggled, attempting to bite down on his hand to no effect.

"Is this Potter's mudblood?" the man holding her asked.

Greyback came into view, stepping close to study her. She gagged as his breath landed on her face. "Yes."

The disheveled man pushed Greyback out of the way. He pointed his wand at her. "Silencio." Hermione didn't like the way he looked at her. "Potter's here, isn't he?" he asked with a grin. She shook her head. "Don't lie. You said his name."

Hermione struggled again. "Where is he?" the man holding her asked. He glanced towards the stairs. "Upstairs?"

She elbowed him in the stomach, attempting to make a break for it but she was grabbed by the disheveled man. It was useless. "Come on little girl," he said. "Let's go find Potter."

They dragged her up the stairs. No matter how hard she struggled she couldn't get away. She had to warn Harry. They couldn't capture him. If they got him, who knew what would happen to him before You-Know-Who finally killed him.

They found him in the second room down the hallway. "Hello Potter," Greyback announced. Harry whirled around, wand in hand. He blocked the disarming spell.

"Stupefy!"

The man who had originally caught her dropped. Harry turned his wand to Greyback. Hermione felt a wand dig into her neck.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," the disheveled man said. Harry paused. Hermione tried to speak, forgetting about the silencing charm. "Drop your wand."

Harry eyed Greyback and then Hermione. He raised his hands, palms out. The disheveled man stiffened, but Harry only threw his wand at Greyback's feet. Hermione closed her eyes, trying to hold back frustrated tears.

* * *

><p>"So you and my father," John started, ignoring the headache. He was lucky he could remember Snape's words from last night. Luckily, Bellatrix had been hanging around him as he attempted to read something. To distract himself. Her presence sparked his memory. "Why? He's kind of gross."<p>

Bellatrix looked at him. "I like power," she told him quite plainly. It was one of her saner moments. John slipped a cigarette in his mouth. He liked power, too, but he wasn't about to climb into bed with someone that didn't even look human. But, he couldn't deny that one of the things that attracted him to Harry was that power bubbling underneath the surface.

"I wish you wouldn't smoke those things," she watched him distastefully. "It's so…muggle."

"I'm not a wizard," he told her, blowing out smoke. "I like muggle things. Clothes, cigarettes, music. And really? I don't care about your wishes unless it involves sex. And even then it's iffy." But John needed to turn the topic back to his father. "So he trusts you, right?"

Bellatrix studied him. Great, that came out suspicious. "Of course," she said finally. "Like no other." There was an odd glint in her eye. "I've never failed him, never betrayed him. A loyal follower." She took great pride in that. John thought it was pathetic but he didn't tell her that.

"You sure about that?" John goaded. "I mean I'm pretty sure he doesn't think so highly about you right about now. Things didn't exactly go well at the bridge and you were in charge. And didn't you let that prophecy get destroyed two years ago? Sounds like failure to me."

She glared at him. Yes, the crazy glint was in her eyes. "He trusts me," she insisted. Like a child really. "Otherwise he wouldn't trust me with such an important item." She stopped like she said too much. But that was alright. John knew what to do to get her to say more.

"Aw, come on Bellatrix," John coaxed, climbing over to her. He kissed her neck before biting at her ear lobe. "You know he trusts me more than you. I'm his favorite." She dug her nails into his back. Well, that hurt.

"I don't see anything in _your_ vault," she snarled. "Potter will always be your weakness. The Dark Lord knows that. He'll never trust you more than me, his most loyal follower."

John laughed at her. She shoved him off her. That was a first. "But I don't have a vault, Bellatrix."

Bellatrix stood, ready to storm out but, before she could, her husband hurried into the room. His face was glowing, a large grin on his face. "We have Potter!" he shouted. John thought he was going to be sick. No. His heart began to race. Bellatrix looked at Rodolphus before turning to John. He schooled his expression. Stay in character, he told himself.

"Where's your father?" she asked gleefully.

"You mean you don't know?" He couldn't help the barb. She didn't look happy with him. "Hogwarts," he finally told her. "He's checking on the wards." That gave them some time. They had no way of contacting him. Who knew when he would return?

"Go fetch him," Bellatrix ordered her husband. Crap. But who knew how long that would take. They still had time. She turned to John again. "Let's go pay a visit to your little boyfriend." John's mind was whirling, trying to figure out an escape plan.

They entered the entrance hall. He paused. Greyback had Harry in a tight grip. John wanted nothing more to torch the crazed werewolf. Harry kept looking over at Hermione who was also in the tight grip of a disheveled man. John had a feeling he knew how Harry had been captured. Not far away, Lucius Malfoy's tired face was alive again. He turned to John.

"Potter slipped," he told him. "Didn't bother checking the wards of the Dark Lord's old headquarters."

"You mean hide out, right?" Harry wasn't going down without taking them down a peg or two. He was like John in that way. John tried to catch Harry's eyes, tried to get him to stop, but Harry wouldn't let him. "His grandparents' house actually. Tell me, why does a high and mighty pureblood bow down to a halfblood?"

"Shut your mouth," Bellatrix ordered viciously before doing a one eighty as she viewed him cheerily. There was a grin on her face as she walked over to him. She ran a hand down his face. Harry jerked away.

"Don't touch me, bitch," he snapped.

"Oh, Potter has some bite," she laughed. "Never give up, do you?" She turned back to John. "I bet he learned the language from you. He's grown into an attractive boy. I see why you obsess over him so."

John's eyebrows rose. "Me obsess? That's your area of expertise." Bellatrix looked Harry over. John's stomach turned as he guessed what she was up to.

Bellatrix walked over to John, wrapping her arms around him. "Kiss me, Pyro. Kiss me in front of your boy." What could he do? He couldn't jerk away. This was not the time to blow his cover. So he kissed her, pulling her into him and biting her lip gently as she pulled away. He dutifully avoided Harry's eyes but he could feel Harry's stare boring into him.

Bellatrix turned back to Harry without breaking her hold on John. "He's mine to play with now." There was an obsessive glint in her eyes.

"John, how far have you sunk?" Hermione asked, half sad, half angry.

He met her eyes. She wasn't Harry. John didn't care what she thought of him. "Didn't have to sink far," he told her. Glaring at Bellatrix, he snapped: "And I'm not anyone's, you got that?" He looked over at Lucius. "Lock them up." He nodded his head towards the dungeons.

Sure they would lock Harry and Hermione up, but the wards would never get set up. Since it was discovered that Harry could get around Voldemort's blood wards, Bellatrix was put in charge of them. And John could distract her long enough. He was confident of that. Before she could follow the group to the dungeons, John grabbed her, throwing her into the nearest room. He shoved her against a table. She practically purred against him. Obviously her good mood made her forget her anger at him. John had to be quick. He had no idea when his father would get back. He hiked up her robes, slipping his hand into her underwear.

When John exited the room, he felt sick. He had done that with Harry only a floor below them. There was no saving him, John knew that he had sunk too far. Hermione was right. He met Lucius in the hall, banging into him.

"Oops," John provided, moving on, slipping the keys and two wands into his pocket.

* * *

><p>They were shoved into the cell roughly and the cell door locked quickly. As Mr. Malfoy and the other men disappeared up the stairs, Harry kicked the bars violently. He needed to calm down if they were going to get out of this. Hermione knew they couldn't get out without his quick thinking.<p>

"Harry? Hermione?"

Hermione whirled around to see more prisoners: Luna, Dean Thomas, and a goblin.

"Luna?" Harry asked, shocked. At least her appearance dissipated his anger. "What are you doing here?"

Luna shrugged. "I imagine You-Know-Who does not appreciate my father's view on Ministry politics." Luna was in here because of her father? The man wouldn't be able to live with himself. No father could.

"Harry, we need to get out of here before he shows up," Hermione grabbed his attention. There was no time for reunions.

"I know that Hermione," he snapped. He ran his hand through his hair, face scrunched up in thought. Harry studied the cell. "No wards," he said. He looked confused. "Why would there be no wards?" Clearly, Harry didn't expect an answer but he got one.

"Bellatrix hasn't come down yet," Dean told them. "She does the wards." An odd look appeared on Harry's face. This was no time for him to be thinking about John's betrayal. A betrayal that seemed to be getting worse and worse.

Suddenly, the door at the top of the stairs opened and Hermione heard footsteps jogging down the stairs. John came into view. "What are you doing here?" she glared. He didn't spare her a second glance.

"We don't have much time," John told Harry, tossing him and Hermione their wands. He pulled a set of keys out of his pocket. Hermione stared at him in shock as he tried key after key. He fumbled. John rarely lost control like that. What was going on? Was John saving them?

"Is he on his way?" Harry asked quickly, taking a step away from the cell door. The lock clicked. A relieved expression passed over John's face. He threw open the door.

"I don't know," John told him. He glanced at the others in the cell briefly. "Give me a few minutes to get an alibi but then be as quick as possible." John grabbed his arm as Harry turned away to give orders. Harry jerked away. He put distance between them. John hesitated. A pained expression passed over his face. Ever so slightly he nodded, as if in acceptance, before getting serious again. "Harry, Bellatrix's vault. Something's in there. Something important."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked, eyebrows furrowing.

"Yes," John insisted.

Hermione felt her stomach drop. The Horcrux. How were they going to do that? Only Bellatrix could get into that vault. But then she had an idea. "John." He turned to her. "We need some of Bellatrix's hair."

He looked confused for a moment before he seemed to catch on. "Polyjuice," he guessed. John always surprised her with how much he knew of the wizarding world. She wished Harry and Ron read as much. But this wasn't the time for such meaningless wishes.

John nodded. "You won't get out without a fight. I'll need to be there." He turned back to Harry. "You need to confront me. I'll get you the hair."

Harry nodded. "Now go," he ordered. "Like you said, we don't have much time." John sent him one last look.

"Right in front of the front doors,"' John told them. "It's the only safe apparation point." He kept the cell slightly open while taking the keys with him. Harry turned to the others who had remained quiet. Dean appeared confused but Luna sent Harry a knowing look. The goblin observed them suspiciously.

"What do you think about getting out of here?" Harry asked lightly. Falsely.

"About damn time," Dean answered with a grin.

"John has ten minutes," Harry told Hermione. She nodded, hoping that was enough time. She couldn't help but worry. Hermione still didn't know what was going on but she would think about it later. All she knew was that John wasn't a lost cause.

* * *

><p>Harry opened the door a crack. Clear. He slipped out, motioning to the others. Determinedly, he suppressed all emotion. This was not the time. He would feel after they were done. Maybe. "Come on," he urged. He took a breath as they reached the doors to the entrance hall. "Stay behind us," he told the goblin, Luna, and Dean. They didn't have wands. He raised his wand. Hermione followed his motion. "You ready?" he asked. She nodded, expression intense. This was it.<p>

"Reducto," he said. The door splintered inwards, causing a small explosion. Without hesitation, Harry and Hermione began throwing spells. They weren't too badly outnumbered, not yet. Only four: the Death Eater that caught them, Mr. Malfoy, Bellatrix, and John. And they had the element of surprise to make up for that. Not to mention, John at least wouldn't be fighting them all out.

"Stupefy!" Hermione shouted. Mr. Malfoy went down. Harry spotted Dean land a powerful punch to the disheveled man's nose. He'd be down, at least for a few moments.

Arms grabbed Harry from behind. Harry elbowed the person in the stomach. The person immediately released him. Harry spun around to find John. He grabbed Harry again, this time by the arm. John pulled him in tight. Harry felt a hand slip into his pocket. How many times had John done that to check for the lighter? Harry wished the lighter wasn't still there. He didn't want to give John the satisfaction. John slipped the hair in. Their eyes met for a moment. John pulled him in for a dominating kiss. A show. A game, like always. Harry bit down as hard as he could and kneed John in the crotch full force. He tasted blood. John went down hard.

"Don't touch me," Harry growled.

He rushed to the others. "Protego!" he shouted as Bellatrix got a spell off. He ducked as a Cruciatus almost hit him. Going for a surprise attack, he tackled her, ripping her wand out of her hands. Her eyes turned wild and as she dug her nails into his arm but he shook her off.

"Harry!" Hermione called. The others were at the door. Luna had a wand in their hand. Must've taken it off the Death Eaters. Harry tossed Bellatrix's wand to Dean.

He grabbed onto Luna and the goblin (Griphook, he remembered) as Hermione took hold of Dean. "Bill and Fleur's safe house," he ordered.

Their landing was rough. Bill came rushing out of the house. "Why does Ron fear spiders?" Bill snapped out quickly.

"Because the twins turned his teddy bear into a spider when he was little," Harry answered just as quickly. It hit him that he didn't know much about Bill. But John was on his mind. "How did you find out about me and John?"

"You called for Pyro during a vision." And without further hesitation, Bill went to Luna, Dean, and Griphook to check them over. Fleur hurried out to join them. Several Order members looked out at them, ushering the group in. Harry didn't follow the group inside, avoiding looking at Hermione, who had remained with him.

"Harry?" she asked carefully.

"Leave me alone, Hermione," he mumbled. He couldn't talk about this right now.

"Just tell me what that was about," Hermione insisted. "Harry, he was my friend. I deserve to know."

Harry sighed. "John's my spy," he told her. "Has been since he left." Hermione didn't look pleased with him but she shut her mouth. At least she recognized this wasn't the time. "It wasn't supposed to go this far." It was true. John wasn't supposed to actually kill anyone and he certainly wasn't supposed to crawl into Bellatrix Lestrange's bed. But that was John wasn't it? Using his body to get what he wanted. Once a whore, always a whore, Harry thought viciously. He dug into his pocket and chucked the lighter into the grass. Hermione watched him carefully.

"Your mouth is bleeding," she said, reaching for him.

He shook her off, wiping at his mouth. "It's not mine. It's Pyro's."

Harry's head throbbed. Voldemort was angry. He blocked it out.

* * *

><p>Harry hadn't held back. That was for sure. John was still in pain and he suspected there was still blood on his mouth. His lip had just stopped bleeding. He wiped at it. "Shouldn't have kissed him," homeless Death Eater told him, slightly amused despite the circumstances. Screams were filtering through the door. Voldemort was currently taking his anger out on Bellatrix. She had been in charge. It would be the others' turns soon. John wondered if he would be an exception again. He hoped. He didn't think he could deal with torture when it felt like his heart was breaking. John never knew that it would actually feel that way, like his heart had split down the middle.<p>

"YOU COULDN'T KEEP YOUR LEGS CLOSED LONG ENOUGH, COULD YOU?"

John flinched. That didn't bode well for him. He could always claim that he hadn't remembered that the wards were her responsibility. At least he had slipped the keys back to Lucius and slipped back to her in time.

"PYRO!" came the roaring voice. Great. He was next. John entered the room, eyes landing on Bellatrix's curled up frame on the floor. He dismissed her. She deserved it anyway.

Voldemort glared at him. "You let that child escape."

John stared at him. "The throbbing of my balls says differently," he bit out. "He won. I lost. I'm not exactly proud of that fact."

"_You couldn't keep your hands off of him_," Voldemort hissed. He had slipped into parseltongue in his anger. This time John recognized it. "_You had your chance to burn him_."

John refused to speak snake. "I didn't think he'd fight dirty." It was true. Harry had surprised him. Voldemort raised his wand.

"And the wands? Tell me Pyro, how did they get their wands?" he asked. The air radiated with magic.

"I don't know. Ask Lucius."

"I know for a fact you were a pickpocket, son," Voldemort took a step forward. "_Don't lie to me_."

Normally John would take a step towards him, meet him in his game. But John knew this wasn't the time. His survival instincts had finally kicked in. "First of all, don't call me son. Second, I taught Harry how to do pick pockets months ago," John said off the top of his brain. "I guess Lucius wasn't careful enough." He paused as Voldemort didn't lower his wand. "If you torture me, I'm out."

"You'll die before I ever let you go," Voldemort told him. "But nevertheless, I shall show you mercy." Relief. "But you cannot go unpunished." Voldemort grabbed him, pushing his sleeve up and digging his wand into John's Dark Mark. "I call your bluff," Voldemort's red eyes shined. "You let that man beat you for years. I think you can handle some pain from your real father."

The pain didn't last long. Just long enough to bring John to his knees. Voldemort grabbed his head, tilting his chin up towards him. "You belong to me," he told John. "Never forget it."

And John didn't argue because frankly he didn't feel like being tortured. There wasn't much fight left in him anyway. But he wouldn't fail. He couldn't blow his cover. He had to make everything worth it. It couldn't be for nothing. Losing Harry couldn't be for nothing.


	41. Failure to Cope

_Mutant Son_

A.N. So many reviews (at least for this story)! Thank you for that and to people reading this story. Out of curiosity, what was with this past chapter and traffic? The first day, I had more than double the readership I usually have with each post. Which is of course awesome. This chapter is a lot slower than last one but I wanted to show more of how John's adjusting, so to speak, to his Death Eater life. Some DH events this chapter but done my own way. Think the scene with Nagini.

**Chapter 41: Failure to Cope**

Hermione gave Harry a few days before she got fed up. Now Hermione thought she was usually in touch with other people's feelings but she was having a hard time with this one. She found Harry outside, sitting just after the grass faded away to sand. He watched the water even as she sat.

Harry sighed. "Just can't hold back any longer, can you?"

Hermione steeled her face. She wasn't going to feel bad for him. She wanted answers. "I think I held back long enough," she replied evenly. "You _lied_ to me."

Harry glanced at her before turning back to the water. She had the distinct feeling that he just dismissed her complaint. "I did what I had to."

That did it. "What do you mean by that?" she snapped.

"You couldn't have handled it," he told her. Obviously he hadn't thought over his words. "We couldn't risk it."

Hermione didn't know what to say to that. There were just too many angry words wanting to come out. "You…" she trailed off angrily. "I'm a risk now? Am I incapable? Do—"

"Hermione," Harry snapped, sending his own glare. "Not now. I'm trying to figure out how to do the impossible. Again. I don't need this."

But she wasn't dropping it. Standing, she had enough self control to keep her voice down. "I don't care what you need right now. Just tell me what happened with John."

He was clearly angry but he didn't snap, tightly controlling his anger. It was very un-Harry. "Hermione, I told you," he said slowly. "John and I faked our fight. He infiltrated Voldemort's ranks, the inner circle. He told me about the bridge."

"And your aunt and uncle?" Hermione asked, crossing her arms. "Or did you two decide to make that sacrifice, too?" She ignored the little voice that told her that was a stupid question.

Harry turned his eyes to the ground. "No." Hermione's heart sank a bit but she ignored that too. She always let Harry off the hook too quickly. Not this time. "John made that sacrifice." He cleared his throat, trying to push the troubled look off his face.

Hermione decided not to look at him. "And Bellatrix Lestrange?"

Harry stood, meeting her eyes angrily. "I told you, Hermione. I don't want to talk about this."

"That was his sacrifice again," Hermione guessed as Harry turned away. She didn't expect him to whirl back around again.

"No, Hermione," Harry growled, eyes flashing. "I told the guy I love to have sex with the woman who killed my godfather. Think!" He roughly tapped his fingers on his head. He turned back to the house, his hand flying back down to his side. She jumped back ever so slightly. He paused, opening his mouth to say something but changed his mind, storming back to the house.

Hermione closed her eyes as the guilt came rushing over her. She pushed too hard. But Hermione had never felt personally betrayed by anyone before John and to find out that the betrayal wasn't real? That Harry had set it up? Hermione wasn't perfect. She lost control. She didn't think.

Hermione rushed back into the house, intent to speak to Harry immediately. She didn't need to go far. Harry had barely made it inside. She didn't hesitate. "I'm sorry."

Harry nodded at her. "Yeah, me too." He dug his hands into his pockets. "I think I have a plan," he told her. He pulled his hand out of his pocket and handed over several strands of hair. Bellatrix's. "I need to get a few things from headquarters and then we need to speak to Griphook—the goblin."

"And then?" Hermione asked, deciding to focus in on the war again. She could follow Harry's lead. Somehow the war had just gotten easier than real life. Well maybe not just. John certainly complicated things.

Harry sent her a smile. It wasn't felt but he was trying. "And then Bellatrix is going to make a withdrawal."

* * *

><p>John stared at the fire. He let it flicker. Rising and falling. It was like breathing. He felt the calm rush over him. It was sometimes like that. Either fire was like an adrenaline rush, like sex or it was like a calm. Serenity. He closed his eyes.<p>

"I've been looking for you," Bellatrix's voice came through. He opened his eyes to glance at her as she approached. She put an arm around him and moved to straddle him. He shook her off.

"Get off," John growled.

"Don't be like that," she pouted, trying again.

"No," he snapped. "I'm not in the mood. Don't touch me." He glared before standing and striding to the fireplace. "You know what? Don't even think about me." He leaned against the wall next to the fire, letting the heat lick at him. It was soothing. He hadn't realized he was cold until he felt the flame.

Bellatrix peered at him. "Is this about Potter?" she asked. John didn't look at her. "For a loyal follower of the Dark Lord, the effect that boy has on you…"

"Yeah, well, I'm fucked up," John said, thinking about pulling out a cigarette. But it wasn't worth the effort. "Everyone knows that."

Bellatrix approached him. She didn't touch him, even allowed him his space, standing on the other side of the fire. John didn't like the way she looked at him. It was sane. Normal. "You think we're monsters," she said. "It suits you because you want to see them suffer but you still think it. Are even repulsed by it. But you play the game."

John couldn't help it. He stared at her. She was a lot saner and a lot more perceptive than he had thought. His insides froze for a moment as he feared that she figured everything out. But then he thought over her words. She didn't know he was a spy. That didn't mean he liked it any better. She sounded too human.

"You, my boy, are not a monster," Bellatrix continued. She took a step towards him. He sent her a warning glare. She paused. "It's okay to love him." She studied him. "Just don't let it affect you. You have a job to do." And with that she left. Great, she had to make it harder. Just when he accepted that he was slowly losing his humanity, she went and gained some.

Someone knocked lightly on the doorframe. Apparently he was asking too much to be left alone for a little while. John turned to see a random Death Eater. "Your father wishes to see you," he said, avoiding John's eyes. Fear. John was really starting to hate it. Imagine that.

John dismissed him before heading out. He entered his father's usual haunt without knocking. Voldemort was sitting in an armchair and, for once, a fire wasn't lit and he was without Nagini. Voldemort said nothing as John entered and sat himself across from his father. Leaning back, he pulled out his lighter and began to flick it.

John leveled a glare at his father, who was watching him carefully. "Want something?" John snapped. "Or you plan on torturing me again?"

Voldemort seemed amused by him. "I do not see the point of harming you if you have done nothing wrong," he told John.

"That's new," John said dryly. "I've seen you torture just for fun."

"But never my own son," Voldemort corrected. He eyed John carefully. "You are an exception, Pyro. I expect more from you. It is in your blood. But that does not mean you will not be punished for your mistakes."

John wasn't impressed. Voldemort wasn't apologizing but he was trying to smooth something out. Trying to ensure his loyalty. "See, I thought you'd be gloating right about now. You called my bluff."

Voldemort smiled. Apparently he couldn't help himself. "I did, didn't I?" He folded his hands across his lap, long fingernails tapping against each other. John eyed them distastefully. "No matter, that is not why I called you here." John looked up from Voldemort's hands to his face. He was studying John carefully again. "It is time for you to reach your full potential."

"What do you mean?" John asked suspiciously.

"I want you by my side from now on," Voldemort informed him. "You will learn. It is only right for my son to be my right hand man. Bellatrix has failed too often and Severus is busy at Hogwarts. There is only one question…" Voldemort paused, studying him again. But John didn't let any expression cross his face. "If it came down to it, could you let Harry Potter die? The boy has to die, you see. I must kill him. You cannot interfere."

Right, it was time to get back in the game. "Kill him," John told him. "Torture him. Do whatever you have to do. I want him out of my head. I want him gone."

Voldemort nodded. "Yes, I'd imagine that it's quite uncomfortable to have _feelings_ like that running around your head." He sneered. "To have it getting in your way. Do not fear my son, once he is dead, nothing will hold you back."

"Whatever," John rolled his eyes. He stood, slipping his lighter back into his pocket. "I'm gonna go crash." Voldemort was watching him again.

"You haven't been sleeping, not for a while," he stated. That had been true for a long time, of course. Barring the nights he drank himself to sleep or Bellatrix managed to exhaust him. No, John hadn't really slept well since Grimmuald Place. Since he was still with Harry.

"Your point?" John asked. "It's not exactly affecting my performance so it's not any of your business."

"I only want you at your best," Voldemort said. John's eyes narrowed with suspicion. The man was acting nonchalantly. Voldemort wasn't nonchalant. He pulled something from next to him. A small white bottle. "Now, normally I would offer you a sleeping potion but as you are unable to process potions, the muggle remedy will have to do." He tossed John the bottle. "Sleep well."

John glanced down at the bottle. Sleeping pills. Back at the mansion he wouldn't touch the stuff. He didn't want to be his mother's son. But hadn't he handled the Vicodin just fine? And he was so tired.

Before he could leave, his father stopped him. "Pyro," Voldemort called. John turned. "I am on your side." John just looked at him for a moment before leaving. For a moment, he wondered what it would be like if he wasn't acting. If this was who he really was. It would be easier, that was for sure.

Glancing down on the pill bottle, he stood indecisively for a moment before taking two pills.

* * *

><p>Harry went back to Grimmuald Place by himself. He headed straight to his room. Once he entered, he had to pause for a moment. He hadn't touched any of John's stuff since he left and he was struck by how normal it appeared. Like they were still living there together. Gryffindor's sword glinted in the corner. Striding over, he grabbed it. He turned it around in his hand, testing the weight and balance. Harry seriously doubted he had the presence of mind to control fiendfyre. That left the sword. It was less convenient but it would do.<p>

He apparated back to Shell Cottage and met Hermione in the kitchen where she was talking to Fleur. "Give us a minute?" Harry asked Fleur. She glanced between him and Hermione before nodding and leaving. Harry watched her leave. "Is she okay?" he asked Hermione.

Hermione sighed. "She's tired. I don't think nursemaid suits her."

Harry smiled. "No, she doesn't seem the type." He pulled the vial out of his pocket and handed it to her. "Bellatrix's hair."

Hermione nodded but she didn't pay much attention to the vial. Her eyes focused in on the sword. Harry placed it on the counter. "Harry…" she trailed off. Clearly, she didn't know what to say. Harry hoped she would leave it at that but he knew that was asking too much. This was Hermione Granger. He loved her but she never could keep herself from interfering. "Why do we need that?"

"I never controlled fiendfyre on the level we need," Harry said. "And I don't think now is the time to try."

Hermione nodded. Finally, she decided to drop it. "Fleur says that Griphook is well enough to talk," she offered. "Once we do that, we have a month to brew—"

"We don't need to brew anything, Hermione," Harry said with a smile. "We have back-up nowadays. The Order has a supply."

"Oh." Hermione sighed. "Clearly, I'm not thinking straight."

Harry pushed away from the counter. "Well, it's time to start," he told her seriously. "We have a job to do."

"As usual." She stood, grabbing the sword and handing it over to him. "We should keep this on us at all times. It's all we have."

Harry looked at the sword. It felt right but the metal was cold in his hands. He much preferred fire. People always said that Harry was a trouble magnet, or that he found trouble. But that wasn't the half of it. Harry found danger, time and time again. Of course he'd like fire, fall in love with someone who not only controlled fire but was like fire himself. But Harry didn't want to think about John, not when it brought up the image of Bellatrix too. Bellatrix and John in bed, her hands on John's body. Harry knew that John had his reasons for doing what he was doing but that didn't make it any better. What did it say about John that he was willing to do sick things to get what he wanted? Harry was willing to do what was necessary, but what John was doing wasn't necessary.

When he looked up, Hermione was staring at him. He shifted. "Let's go see Griphook," Harry said. Hermione followed after him as he made his way to Griphook's room. Harry knocked lightly as he opened the door.

"Harry Potter," Griphook said, eyes narrowing on Harry before traveling to the sword. Harry and Hermione exchanged glances. "Gryffindor's sword, am I right?"

"Yes," Harry, answered as he moved to the window. He leaned against the lodge. Griphook's eyes followed after him.

"Why are you here, Harry Potter?" Griphook finally looked up. "How can a goblin help a great wizard like yourself?" he continued, voice bitter and hateful. Harry wished that they didn't need him. It was clear that the goblin couldn't be trusted.

"We need your help," Harry said, meeting Griphook's eyes. "We need to steal something from Gringott's."

Griphook sneered. "Impossible."

"I don't believe that," Harry told him. "I think it is possible. And I think you can help us."

Griphook studied him silently. Harry leaned back, turning the sword over a few times. He paused as he felt Griphook's eyes boring into him. "Harry Potter, do you know the history behind that sword?"

"Gryffindor's sword. Passed on through the line until it was lost. Popped back up for me," Harry said confused. What did the sword have to do with Griphook?

"Of course, the true ownership was forgotten. Wizards," Griphook sneered. "That sword was forged by goblins. Once Godric Gryffindor died, it should have been returned to us. But it was stolen from us. Never returned. Do you see now?"

Unfortunately, Harry did. To Griphook, the sword belonged to the goblins. But how could Harry explain that the sword appeared to him? Twice. That it was his birthright.

"Why wouldn't it belong to the Gryffindor descendents?" Harry asked.

"Because it was forged by us. We only allowed Godric to use it." Griphook looked him over. "Besides, the Gryffindor line is dead."

"Not so dead," Harry responded, casually waving an arm towards the sword with a small smirk.

Griphook's eyes narrowed. "That is no matter. As you are not Godric, your Gryffindor blood means nothing." The goblin's smile revealed two rows of razor sharp teeth. Harry wondered for a moment what it was the goblin ate with teeth that sharp but decided he didn't need to know. "Let us make a deal then. The sword for my help."

Harry's eyes found Hermione's. They both knew that they needed the sword. Unless they got a hold of some basilisk fangs (highly unlikely) or Harry gained back the ability to feel serenity (also highly unlikely), the sword was the only thing that could destroy the remaining Horxruxes.

"That's—" Hermione started, speaking up for the first time. Griphook's eyes merely flashed towards her. He hadn't forgotten about her; he had just deigned her unimportant.

Harry interrupted her, "—a deal. You get us into Bellatrix Lestrange's vault and you can have the sword."

"I can give no promises," Griphook warned.

Harry eyed him. "Then you'll go home empty handed. No sword. You _will_ get us in."

Griphook nodded solemnly. "I will help but I am afraid you overestimate my role at Gringott's."

"If Bellatrix has the type of vault I think she has," Harry began. He had no time for this. This wasn't a game and Griphook would cooperate. Harry would make sure of it. "Then only a goblin can get in. Besides some guidance, I don't expect anything else from you." He and Griphook stared each other down. Harry raised his eyebrows, daring him to argue. "Deal?"

"Deal," Griphook agreed. "Now let me rest."

Harry didn't respond, just nodding at Hermione to follow him out. She sighed. "You know it's like I don't exist when you're around."

Harry smiled at her attempt to lighten the mood, though it felt a bit forced. It wasn't funny but she was trying. "Yeah well, I'd trade with you any time."

Hermione snorted. "No you wouldn't. You don't like being ignored. People are going to listen to you whether they like it or not."

Harry thought about it for a moment. He wished people wouldn't stare at him, wouldn't treat him like something special. But he couldn't deny that he wanted people to listen to him, to not ignore him. It was the only good thing about being Harry Potter, lately it seemed as if people had to listen. He was certainly a long way from Privet Drive. So, yeah, he wouldn't trade place with Hermione. As Harry went back downstairs, his thoughts wandered to John.

John loved power, needed it like air. He needed to know he could fight back. That he'd never have to be the victim. Thank you Allerdyce Sr. And Harry? Maybe Harry didn't love power, love being in the spotlight, but he did love having a voice, being heard. He couldn't deny that it was better being Harry Potter than boy.

Harry was about to exit through the back of the cottage when the door swung in. Remus hurried in looking flushed, but happy. His face broke out into a large grin when he saw Harry.

"Harry!" he breathed, hand clamping down on Harry's shoulder. "I've been looking for you." Remus herded him to the kitchen table.

"What's going on?" Harry asked as he almost missed the chair on his way down. Hermione must've heard the noise seeing as she suddenly appeared in the kitchen.

If possible, Remus's face broke out into an even larger grin. "Tonks," he told Harry. "She had the baby. A boy." Remus shook his head like he couldn't quite believe it. "We named him Teddy."

"Congratulations!" Hermione squealed, pulling Remus into a hug.

Harry stared at Remus as he hugged Hermione back, mouth agape. He knew this was coming but he had forgotten it was this close. "Con-congratulations," Harry somehow got out. A baby?

"You'll be godfather right?" Remus asked, almost as if on a side note.

Harry's eyes grew wide. He looked over to Hermione whose eyes were watery. She nodded frantically at him. She wanted him to say yes? He didn't know anything about kids. Who knew what kind of harm he'd do? How—"Yes," he suddenly found himself saying. What? "Of course. Wow. Teddy?"

And Harry watched as the others in the house began to filter in. Ever the proud father, Remus turned to them to share the news, pulling out pictures. Godfather?

* * *

><p>"What the fuck is that?" John asked, watching as his father pulled some white silvery stuff out of his head and into a basin. As it turned out, Voldemort had really meant that he wanted John by his side. Literally. It made it hard to get any letters out to Harry at all.<p>

Surprisingly, Voldemort didn't rip into him for his language. "That," Voldemort said, gazing at the basin disinterestedly, "is a memory which I have just now put into a Pensieve."

John sat up, peering at the weird liquid metal thing going on in the basin. So that's what that looked like. Finally, he sat back and looked at his father, eyebrows raised. "So you feeling what, old man, nostalgic or senile?"

Voldemort ignored his barb, instead beckoning to John. He sent John a glare as John made no move to obey. John sighed, cursing his curiosity. As much as he wanted to be difficult, he also wanted to see whatever it was that his father wanted him to see.

John stood with his father over the basin. "Well what is it?"

"Patience," his father replied before gesturing to the basin. Kind of grandly actually. So dramatic. "I only thought you would like to see how your grandfather met his untimely demise."

"Untimely?" John asked with a smirk. "The way I heard it, it was about time."

Voldemort looked amused. "Is that directly from the mouth of Harry Potter or your own view on the events?"

John looked at him as if he were crazy. Well, he was. Crazier. "Dude, have you met Harry?"

"Dude?" Voldemort asked curiously. But he moved on. "And yes I have met the boy. Which is why I know that he holds great anger. He is quite capable of thinking in that manner though I suppose probably not towards any of my victims." Voldemort paused. "I do sometimes wish I got to the boy before Albus. Potter would have had great potential."

"Yeah, and he would've just forgotten that you orphaned him," John rolled his eyes. "Plus, Harry isn't capable of the shit we do."

Voldemort smiled. It killed John that he was actually getting used to the smile. It no longer made him nauseous. "I never expected you of all people to overestimate anyone's goodness. Maybe I should be asking you whether _you_ have met Harry Potter. In another life, Potter may have been more like yourself."

John seriously doubted that. Sure, Harry had a temper and could do almost anything in a rage but afterwards? No, Harry was too good not because someone made him that way but because it was just the way he was. Hermione was right. Harry was always going to be Harry Potter. "Whatever, man."

Voldemort took the cue and moved on. "Would you like to see the memory or not?"

John paused for a moment. Did he really need to feel any camaraderie with his father? The answer was obviously no but still, John wanted to see. "Sure, why not? As long as there's no little Timmy in this whole production of murders past, I'm all in."

"Does that make you Scrooge?" Voldemort asked lightly.

John stared at him. "Careful, you're letting you're muggle upbringing show."

* * *

><p>They had another day before Gringotts and they had already gone through the plan over and over again. Harry needed to get out for a while but even in his own head he needed a good excuse to abandon war duties, even for a little while. So he did what he hadn't done in weeks, check for letters from John. In a way it was the last thing he wanted to do but if John had proved anything at Malfoy Manor, it was that he was still on their side. So Harry went and came back with three letters.<p>

Harry didn't let anyone know he had returned, instead finding a nice spot on the beach. He opened the first letter:

"_I should've told you. I fucked up._"

Harry read it over a few times before crumbling it. Not even an apology. Not that it mattered. They were all empty words anyway. He opened the next one:

"_His new plan is to train me as his right hand man. I swear I haven't touched her since that night_."

Harry crumbled that one, too. Of course Voldemort was promoting him. Harry finally understood how John had moved up the ranks so successfully. John didn't have to convincingly pretend to betray Harry if he actually did, in one way or another. And boy did John do it full force. It didn't matter that he hadn't touched her since the escape. The fact that he had touched her, that she had touched him. More than once. Why did it have to be more than once?

Biting his lip, he almost didn't read the last one but he couldn't let his personal life effect the war. John was still their spy. So he read the last one. This one was longer than any he had before.

"_My father showed me how he killed his father's side of the family. I'm pretty sure splitting his soul made him increasingly unbalanced. When he killed his father and grandparents, there was no emotion. He hadn't even given them much of a chance to speak. He told them who he was and then killed them. More psychopath than his current psychotic. I think destroying the other pieces of soul will only make it worse. Be careful, he'll only get more deranged_."

While not quite necessary information, it was something. Know thy enemy, Harry guessed. Would destroying the Horcruxes weaken Voldemort? No, Harry's own instincts and John's report seemed to agree that, while weakening Voldemort's mind, the more unbalanced he became, the more dangerous he would also become. At least in the short run.

Harry raised his wand to destroy the letters but something made him pause. But his hesitation lasted only a moment.

"Incendio," he pointed his wand. The letters went up in flame, leaving behind only ash. Harry tried not think about John because he didn't want to feel worry for someone he currently hated. He could put money on the fact that John was struggling. And Harry certainly didn't want to think about how he was coping. Or how Harry himself was, as usual, failing to cope.

But Harry didn't have to cope. Tomorrow he would be one step closer to killing Voldemort. Then John could go back to New York. John could forget all about the things he did for the war. He could pretend the wizarding world never existed. John deserved that much.

Sighing, Harry stood. He promised Remus that he would come visit Tonks and the baby. Harry still wasn't sure whether he was cut out to be a godfather, even whether he'd live long enough to do the job, but he knew he would try his best. Teddy was family. Another Marauder kid. Harry pushed all thoughts of John from his mind.

* * *

><p>"You called?" John asked, eyes traveling over the prone figure lying at Voldemort's feet. Nagini circled the unlucky Death Eater.<p>

Voldemort turned to John. "Yes, I did," he said. Though his voice was calm, his eyes shun with anger. Voldemort sneered down at his follower. "I need an example to be made out of this one." He leveled his eyes at John. "And I want you to do it."

John traveled further into the room, glancing at the Death Eater. "What did he do?" John asked as he squatted down to get a better look at the robed figure. The man appeared only vaguely familiar, another nameless Death Eater.

"He let Potter's werewolf slip away," Voldemort said.

John slowed, pulling out his lighter, attempting to cover up his matched relief and panic. Relief for the fact that Remus was safe and panic at the fact that he had almost been caught. John flicked his lighter. "Remus slipped his tail huh?" The man didn't look at him so John studied him. His thumb paused over his lighter as his eyes landed on a naked forearm. He turned to his father. "He doesn't have a Mark."

Voldemort sneered. "A werewolf will never be honored with my mark."

A werewolf then. Was Remus still reaching out to werewolf communities? Didn't he get that the time for that was well gone? He was going to get himself killed. But John pushed those thoughts from his mind. "So what's the plan?" he asked.

Voldemort's eyes landed on John's lighter. "Leave enough of him that my followers get the point."

John nodded. "Werewolf barbecue then. Got it. Medium rare or well done?" The man whimpered as John stood.

"Well done," Voldemort ordered. "_Nagini come_." Apparently his father didn't appreciate the smell of burning flesh. John watched as they left before turning back to the man. He crouched back down.

"Don't," the man begged, voice raspy from torture. Or the recent full moon. John's mind flew briefly back to Remus. No, he wouldn't think about him now.

"If it helps," John flicked his lighter, watching the flame rise to his hand, "I'll make it quick."

"Please, no," the man whimpered. But John wasn't letting the man in. He had to do this. There was no faking this and even if there was, this man was one of the bad guys. He would've hurt Remus.

"You chose this life," John told him. "Don't blame me if it's not working out for you."

"You don't understand," the man cried, trying to meet John's eyes, but John wouldn't stray from the flame. "I'm a were—"

"I don't care," John snapped. He let his eyes meet the other man's for just a moment. There would be no sign of weakness, even in front of someone he was about to kill. Standing, he let the flame loose and let the man burn. He didn't let the smell bother him. The man was one of the bad guys and John had killed plenty of them before. They were monsters. He didn't care what Bellatrix said.

John left the room and headed to a nearby lounge. Opening the door, his eyes landed on Lucius Malfoy. "Hey blondie," John called. The man looked up, failing to hide his distaste for a moment. But the man steeled his face over.

"Pyro," he responded with a nod. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"I have a job for you," John told him, striding in and casually throwing himself onto a chair. He pulled out his pack of cigarettes. "Two doors down is a nice crispy body. Float into the entrance hall. Hang it all nice."

"Do not wish to get your hands dirty?" Lucius asked, sneering ever so slightly.

John lit his cigarette. He let it hang there for a moment. "It's not like I'm asking you to get _your_ hands dirty. Just levitate and string up the damn thing." Lucius didn't move right away. John slipped his cigarette between his lips. "That's an order, in case you didn't get that."

Lucius studied him for a moment before standing. He looked down at John for a moment. "Do not get too comfortable in your position," Lucius said lightly.

John smirked. "Whatever, man. If you and Bellatrix didn't fuck up so often, you wouldn't have to threaten me."

"I am not threatening you," Lucius replied, adjusting his robes. "Just warning you. The Dark Lord is not kind to even his closest followers." He was about to turn to leave when he stopped. "And we are the ones with the most to lose."

"Like your wife and junior, huh?" John asked, just to be annoying.

"Indeed," Lucius headed to the door. He turned. "But I suppose you do not have anything to lose, do you? You have already lost Potter. What else do you have to your name?"

John grinned. "My good looks and charming personality."

Lucius eyed him one more time before finally leaving. John sighed, dropping his head into his hands and carefully avoiding his cigarette. The cigarette he didn't even feel like smoking. He put it out.

John made his way back to his bedroom, carelessly slamming his door behind him. Kicking off his shoes, he threw himself into bed. He stared at the ceiling. How could he be so tired and so awake at the same time? He turned his head. His eyes bore into the pill bottle on the table. It was still too early for bed. He should at least wait until later before he took the nightly dose. But fuck it. He was tired. He reached out for the bottle and poured some pills into his hand.

"Cheers," he mumbled before popping them into his mouth.


	42. Nothing's Impossible

_Mutant Son_

A.N. So I reread the Gringotts scene in DH, lots from there this chapter. This chapter may seem rushed at spots but I don't want to be too repetitive with DH. Parseltongue is in italics.

**Chapter 42: Nothing's Impossible When You're Harry Potter**

For a plan, it was kind of threadbare. Really, the only thing they had planned out was Hermione polyjuicing into Bellatrix while Harry and Griphook were left with the invisibility cloak. With that, Harry would be concealed and could back-up Hermione magically without being seen and Griphook would be more reliably hidden. Still, it felt as if they were flying at the seat of their pants. But, really, when weren't they?

Hermione, of course, didn't like it one bit but Harry had pointed out that they didn't exactly have any other options. One thing Harry did wish he had planned, however, was how to double-cross Griphook who hadn't left Harry and Hermione in a room alone together all week. Even when Harry had disappeared to the post office, Griphook made sure to keep an eye on Hermione. Perhaps once they got to safety, Harry would quickly disapparate with Hermione and the sword. Needless to say, that wasn't much of a plan either.

Finally, it was time to leave. The sun was barely up when Harry found himself in the yard with Griphook, waiting for Hermione to walk out as Bellatrix Lestrange. It wasn't something Harry was looking forward to. Every time he thought of either John or Bellatrix, he thought of the other. Needless to say, he really didn't need to be staring at Bellatrix's face.

The whole dilemma, however, revealed something about Harry's feelings on the matter. While angry at John, he didn't hate him. His anger wasn't even biggest thing. The worst part was that Harry had lost a great deal of respect for John. He kept asking himself what it said about John that he was willing to sell his body (still) to get something he needed when there were other options. Harry would never admit it to anyone but his thoughts when Hermione confronted him still rang true. Harry agreed with John. The word whore wasn't too far from the truth. And, for the first time, he really thought about how many people had touched John before Harry even got there.

Really, Harry preferred anger. Anger faded, respect had to be earned back. Which could have been possible if Harry wasn't disgusted every time he thought of John.

Harry was pulled out of his thoughts when he spotted Bellatrix striding towards him. As expected, hatred and disgust immediately bubbled up in him but he subdued it. This was Hermione. Hermione who was fiddling with her robes.

"Stop that," he told her. "You have to act the part. Haughty people don't play with their robes like that."

"John would," Hermione said, straightening her arms out by her sides, looking decidedly unhappy.

"John's cocky, not haughty," Harry corrected. Hermione was meant to be taking on Bellatrix's habits anyway, not John's. "Plus, John fidgets because he has pent up energy. When you fidget, you look nervous, even as Bellatrix."

Griphook, meanwhile, watched Hermione doubtfully. "This all hinges on you," he snarled. "Make a mistake and we are all dead."

Harry glared at him. "Leave her alone."

"I can fight my own battles," Hermione said stiffly. She turned to Griphook. "Don't forget, I can turn you into any number of things."

Harry snorted. "That's more like it." He pulled out the invisibility cloak and gestured for Griphook to hop on his back. As the goblin's arms tightened around his neck, Harry flinched. He could just imagine the unpleasant goblin choking him. Harry handed the cloak over to Hermione who threw it over them. "Well?" Harry asked.

"You're completely covered," Hermione answered. "Ready?"

Harry nodded before remembering she couldn't see him. He felt more than heard Griphook's exasperation. "Yeah," Harry finally answered. "To the Leaky Cauldron."

The Leaky Cauldron was almost exactly how he remembered it, at least on the surface. It was almost empty now and the mood was definitely somber. Tom quickly averted his eyes as he spotted Hermione, now standing tall as Bellatrix. That was until she glanced around nervously. Harry nudged her.

"Stop looking so uneasy," he whispered. She shook herself slightly before striding to the alleyway. Hermione pulled out her wand, tapping at the wall. That was another problem on their rather long list: the two wands. Hopefully no one would question it. This was war: wands were constantly lost and gained. Bellatrix's wand did not work well for Hermione. She needed her own. Harry didn't dare mention any of this to Hermione but she wasn't stupid: she probably already knew.

They entered into Diagon Alley. The last time they had been there, they saved it. That was the first time John showed what kind of threat he was to the other side. It felt like ages ago. But that victory no longer mattered, just as the victory in Hogsmeade didn't matter. They won the small battles only to lose the large ones, erasing any victory. Now, the alley was full of witches and wizards wandering around in rags, begging. Here and there, he saw a witch or wizard standing tall in immaculate robes. Death Eaters or their supporters. Harry resisted hexing one of them just on principle.

They reached the imposing stone façade of Gringotts. Just as Griphook warned, two wizards stood guard, holding golden rods which would sense any magical trickery. But Harry could handle that just fine. "Now," Griphook hissed as they approached the entrance.

Harry made a large sweeping motion with his wand, "Confundo." He watched as the two guards' faces slipped into expressions of confusion. One of them stepped up to Hermione. He raised the rod.

"You've already done that," Hermione snapped at him. If only she could add a little madness to her glare, then she would've really channeled the Bellatrix essence.

"Oh," the guard said stupidly. Harry followed closely behind Hermione as she quickly walked past them. Harry was careful not to read the inscriptions near the door that had so fascinated him at eleven. He didn't need to be reminded how impossible their task was.

"Careful," Harry whispered. "Don't appear rushed."

Hermione slowed down her gait, lifting her head high. "Right," she mumbled to herself. She walked confidently up to an old goblin behind the counter. Harry watched as the old goblin exchanged looks with the one next to him. That didn't bode well.

"That's Bogrod," Griphook informed Harry.

"Madame Lestrange," Bogrod greeted. "How may I help you?"

"I wish to make a withdrawal from my vault," Hermione said plainly.

Bogrod peered at her from over his glasses. "Your wand, please." Harry glanced briefly around the room. Several goblins and wizards were looking their way not too subtly. Harry eyed the wizards, making sure their hands hadn't gone to their wands.

Hermione handed over Bellatrix's wand. Bogrod studied it carefully, turning it over in his hands. He paused. "I must let one of our wand experts examine it," Bogrod replied. "You understand of course."

"Of course," Hermione responded, but she no longer sounded so confident.

"They know," Griphook hissed, but Harry had already figured that out. They must have heard about Malfoy Manor. What could he do?

He didn't have any choice. Taking a step forward, Harry aimed his wand at Bogrod. "Imperio," he whispered. Bogrod's eyes glazed over as a tingling sensation moved from Harry's wand and up his arm to his head. It was a weird feeling. A good feeling. Control.

"You needed my services?" an approaching goblin asked.

But Bogrod was carefully under Harry's control. "No, I was mistaken," Bogrod stated, handing the wand back to Hermione. She couldn't help but let relief flash across her face.

"We need him," Griphook told Harry. "I can no longer control the carts or the vaults."

"Probably should've mentioned that before," Harry growled, but nevertheless he kept the curse going.

"Follow me, Madame Lestrange," Bogrod ordered, stepping out from behind the counter. Hermione and Harry followed behind him. People were still watching them. One thing was for sure: this wasn't going to be easy.

As soon as the doors closed behind them, Harry pulled off the invisibility cloak and Griphook hopped off his back. They all climbed into the cart, Bogrod still in a stupor. The cart sped down the tracks, making turn after turn and hurtling deeper underground. It was the longest cart ride Harry could remember, even longer than the ride to the vault holding the sorcerer's stone all those years ago. A lifetime, it felt like.

"This isn't good," Griphook said.

"What?" Harry asked, but then he saw it: a waterfall. They sped straight through the waterfall, the water dropping on their heads and bodies roughly. Suddenly, the cart bee-lined off track, sending them all rushing to the ground. This was it. Voldemort need only finish off Harry's deformed body.

Then Hermione screamed something and instead of the hard stone ground, they landed softly. "Cushioning spell," Hermione informed him as he unsteadily got to his feet. He stared.

"You're not Bellatrix anymore," Harry said.

"Of course not," Griphook growled. "The waterfall cancels out all illusions and bewitchments. They know intruders are here."

"Shit," Harry hissed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bogrod shaking his head as if regaining his bearings. They couldn't have that. "Imperio," he said again. Again that sensation reached his mind.

"Follow me," Bogrod said dazed. They trekked behind him through a tunnel. Harry wasn't sure whether he was imagining things, but he thought he could hear their would-be captors. They walked for some time. Every minute they spent walking was another minute the Death Eaters could be closing in on their tails.

Finally, the tunnel opened up into large cavern and Harry stopped in his tracks. A dragon. A very large dragon. Harry had come up close and personal to dragons before but never one this size. He was relieved to see that it was chained to the ground quite securely. Harry studied it for a moment. The dragon was old and beaten, mostly blind. Harry felt a pang of pity which he quickly quashed. This was not the time for animal rights.

"Take these," Griphook ordered, handing over clangers. "He's been trained to expect pain when he hears this." Hermione glanced down at the clanger, but she too knew it wasn't the time. They shook the metal contraptions and Harry winced as the dragon roared, pushing itself against the far wall. They hurried past it until they reached the vault. "Push his palm against the vault," Griphook ordered again. Harry did as he was told.

When the vault opened, Harry saw piles and piles of gold: galleons, heirlooms, everything seemed to be gold with some silver mixed in. "Look for either the cup or something with the Ravenclaw crest," Harry told Hermione, pulling out his sword. He could feel Griphook's eyes on him.

The task was daunting. He hoped the cup and not the Ravenclaw heirloom was in there; that at least would make things mildly easier. Still, there was just so much in the vault. Harry's foot brushed against a pile of gold. Suddenly, the gold began to multiply and his foot felt like it was on fire. Harry jumped away, part of his shoe having burnt away. He banged into a dagger, this one searing his pants leg as it too began to multiply.

"Don't touch anything," Hermione shouted, freezing where she was.

Harry followed suit. "How are we supposed to find anything if we can't move?" Harry could practically see her mind working. He turned away from her, looking around the room. It was here somewhere.

Then he saw it. The cup. On a shelf above piles of gold. "Hermione," he called, pointing to the cup. She followed his motion.

"Accio!" she shouted.

"That's not going to work," Griphook growled.

Harry eyed his sword. If he could just handle the heat long enough, he could push the blade through the handle and then he would have it. He braced himself before quickly darting towards the pile of gold. He jumped. Hermione called for him but he ignored it. It was like walking over hot coals, he imagined, just stay quick and easy. He tried not to touch anything too long.

The sound of the vault slamming behind them reached his ears. They were trapped. Harry's feet, legs, arms, anything that touched the gold was burning. He feared for one moment that he was going to drown in the gold. But then he was close enough. Harry reached out with the sword, pushing it through the handle. The cup fell towards the hilt. The gold on which he stood gave out. Finally, Harry, the sword, and the cup fell into the growing pile. His whole body burned but he fought through the gold. Hermione was screaming his name again.

Harry punched the sword through the pile. Someone grabbed the sword and Harry clenched on to it harder, suspecting Griphook. Harry was pulled out of the gold, but he lost his grip and Griphook fell back, sword in hand.

"Give that back," Harry ordered, finally stepping away from the gold. Hermione joined him, barely holding back from inspecting his injuries.

"A promise is a promise, Harry Potter," Griphook grinned, those razor sharp teeth glinting.

"Then give me the cup," Harry growled. Forget the sword. They couldn't lose the Horcrux. Griphook glanced at it for a moment and Harry lunged at the goblin. They wrestled, banging into more gold. The goblin yelped as the gold burnt at his skin, but Harry had dealt with plenty of pain before. He held on and somehow managed to grab the cup, but he couldn't get the sword. Griphook scurried away and Harry stood.

Griphook ran to the door. "Thieves!" he shouted. Only Hermione's hand on Harry's arm kept him from lunging at the goblin again.

"We need to get out of here," Hermione said, even as they heard the vault being surrounded. It looked like they would be fighting their way out against who knew how many.

The vault opened, but Harry and Hermione were ready. "Stupefy!" they shouted together.

"Expelliarmus!"

"Diffindo!"

Harry didn't really aim so much as he threw spell after spell. He paused, aiming his wand at the cave wall. "Reducto!" Wizards and goblins leaped away.

Grabbing Hermione's hand, he dragged her out of the vault. They fought their way through, but there were too many. They needed another distraction.

"Expecto Patronum," he called as he leaped over a rather larger rock. Prongs, white and bright as ever, charged towards their attackers.

Harry and Hermione dove behind a pillar. He breathed. A plan, a plan, they needed a plan. Prongs continued to weave through Death Eaters and goblins. As he thought, Hermione continued to throw spells, watching his back without him having to ask.

Harry peaked his head around the pillar, quickly pulling back to avoid a hex. But it was long enough to see something and form a crazy plan. "Hermione, you trust me right?" he asked, glancing over at her.

"With my life," she said, breathing heavy.

"Then trust me," Harry said, pulling her up with him. "Follow me," he told her. He sprinted, hearing Hermione close behind him.

"Protego!" she shouted.

Then he was close enough. He leaped towards the dragon, grasping hold of its wing and pulling himself on. He reached a hand out towards Hermione who didn't think twice. She jumped, hand grasping his, the other the dragon's wing. He aimed his wand at the chains even as Prongs faded out. "Reducto!"

It took a few moments for the dragon to realize it was free but once it did, it spread its mighty wings. Hermione and Harry held tight. Harry's eyes landed on Griphook and the sword. Griphook was watching them, delight on his face, thinking he had won. He did have the sword didn't he? Harry's sword. That sword belonged to Gryffindor's heir: Harry. A sudden sensation filled him and he watched as the sword disappeared from Griphook's hand. But to where?

Harry couldn't think about it any longer because the dragon finally took off. It roared, fire hitting the ceiling. John would love this, Harry couldn't help but think. He and Hermione held tight as the dragon used its claws to widen the tunnel to escape. Hermione began to throw out spells to help it on its way. Little bits of rock fell on them, scraping away at Harry's already burnt skin. He really hoped something larger didn't fall on them.

As they ascended, Harry heard screams as the fire rebounded off walls and rocks continued to fly. Harry joined Hermione, helping the dragon fight its way through. Suddenly, there was a burst of light as the dragon busted into the main hall. It landed for a moment, looking around. The wizards and goblins stared in shock. Then the dragon unleashed a stream of fire in front of it before taking off again. Harry watched for a moment as the fire engulfed almost half the room.

"Cover your head!" Hermione shouted as the dragon burst through the ornate ceiling and into the air.

* * *

><p>John stood by Voldemort's side as they took in the rubble of Gringott's. Bodies were spread around, both goblins and wizards. Most survivors had high-tailed it out of there but others stuck around to inform their lord of what had happened.<p>

"Was it the Order?" Voldemort asked, voice like ice. There was no right answer to his coming questions. John was just relieved to know he wouldn't be tortured. Whatever this was, he had nothing to do with it. Well, at least as far as his father would know. He had a feeling this was Harry's work. It certainly couldn't be said that Harry didn't follow up on tips.

"No," the Death Eater cowered. "Po-Potter and his mudblood."

"Did they take anything?" Voldemort asked, going suddenly still.

"I-I don't know," the man replied.

"You don't know," Voldemort snapped, finally some emotion. "What _do_ you know then?"

"They were in Bellatrix Lestrange's vault," the Death Eater whimpered.

"AND YOU LET THEM ESCAPE!" Voldemort roared. It looked like he made the connection between Harry and the Horcrux.

"They had a dragon, my lord," the man bowed his head. John carefully hid his grin behind the hand holding his lighter. That was his Harry.

Such thoughts fled his mind as his father let out a roar and let curses fly. The remaining survivors ran, but the killing curse hit many. John carefully moved behind Voldemort, out of his line of fire. Even the uninvolved Death Eaters were targets. John watched as Bellatrix made a run for it, pushing her way to safety, tossing men and goblins behind her.

And then Voldemort stopped, breathing heavily, as he either calmed or found that randomly killing his own supporters wasn't exactly plan of the year. He turned, eyes landing on John. "It is time to return to headquarters," he said slowly. The man really was psychotic. Talk about mood swings.

Voldemort apparated them back to Malfoy Manor and immediately began to pace. "The boy knows," he muttered. He wasn't speaking to John but John could still hear. He listened carefully. "Must check on the others," Voldemort continued. The others? Voldemort certainly wouldn't worry about the safety of anybody. Was it the Horcruxes? "Make sure their safe. Must get around the Hogwarts wards."

John stopped. Hogwarts. Voldemort was finally going to Hogwarts. Harry needed to know. But how? There was not enough time to get to the box, even if Harry would be checking it. This was going to happen too soon. John had to do something drastic.

So, he laughed. Voldemort whirled around, perhaps having forgotten he was even there. John snickered into his hand. "What do you find so funny?" Voldemort's eyes narrowed.

John grinned, shaking his head. "He rode a fucking dragon out of Gringott's. A dragon." Keeping the grin on, he looked directly at his father. "The way I hear it, you couldn't even swipe something from there. And, man, Harry did it in style."

"Hold your tongue," Voldemort snapped, pulling out his wand. But he wasn't at the breaking point yet.

"Why?" John asked. "You just got your ass handed to you by Harry fucking Potter. Again." This was it. What would make his father really angry. "And now he's got something of yours. Something you'd just _die_ without."

Voldemort stilled. "_What did you say? What do you know?_" he hissed out.

"Everything," John stated. "Harry knows about your little Horcruxes."

"_And you've said nothing! My own son._" Voldemort's eyes shun with madness. John felt a ripple travel through the room. Magic. Very dark magic.

John didn't let the grin fall from his face, though the hairs on the back of his neck rose. "Come on," he said, raising his eyebrows. "You don't really think I feel any real loyalty to you, do you? You're a means to an end and your Horcruxes are a convenient hand." John paused, grin transforming into a smirk. "And I always know how to play a hand." That was certainly truth. Even now John was using the Horcruxes to manipulate his father, who was too angry to suspect.

"A hand?" Voldemort hissed out, taking a step forward.

"You see people always compare long term strategy to chess," John told him. "To me it's all poker. And it looks to me like you were dealt a shitty hand and you ain't so good at the game. First Dumbledore reads your tells, and now Harry gets the jump on you? I told you when I first met you. It's too late, he's going to win."

"Then you, my son, will go down with me." Then Voldemort lashed out. "Crucio!"

John dropped to the ground, writhing in pain. He had forgotten how it felt. Was this how Vernon Dursley felt when John killed him? John must have screamed. It seemed to go on forever, but it could have been only a few moments. The curse lifted.

"_Traitor_," Voldemort hissed out. "_Still on that boy's side._"

John couldn't help but cough, his throat in terrible pain. Standing, he could taste blood in his mouth. Like copper. Nevertheless he spoke. John still had some survival instinct left. "No," he tried but the pain was too much. For the first time, he slipped into parseltongue; it was easier and he could no longer focus hard enough to continue in English with Voldemort speaking in snake. "_I'm on my own side. You'll lose, but I always planned to go out fighting._"

"Crucio!"

And again the pain came. John hadn't even said anything particularly bad that time, but Voldemort didn't need much. John was a convenient target even if he hadn't been mouthing off. It didn't last as long as before, but he couldn't find the energy to stand this time when it lifted. He had two choices: either stand or speak. John looked up, eyes meeting his father's. Something flashed in Voldemort's eyes. For a moment John could have sworn that Voldemort's eyes flashed green. "Hogwarts," John said, barely getting the word out.

"_What_?" his father snapped.

John couldn't let him know that he had just sent a warning to Harry. At least, he hoped he had. So he continued to run his mouth. "_You can't even get past the Hogwarts' wards. Gryffindor's heir has you beat_."

Then the pain came again. A thousand knives were stabbing him, his mind getting the brunt of it. He thought it would tear apart. But it was only the Cruciatus, and when it lifted, the only remnants were the exhaustion in John's body and the blood in his mouth.

Voldemort was standing over him. "_You will go to Hogwarts and you will fix what you helped create. I will get into Hogwarts, you see. You are wrong. No heir of Gryffindor can defeat the heir of Slytherin._"

But John was an heir of Slytherin, too. His fight wasn't over. He'd watch his father die. It would be revenge for both him and Harry. It would keep Voldemort from causing anyone any more suffering. No more children without parents.

John felt Voldemort's long nails scrape against his face. His father held John's chin in his hand, pushing John's head up into an uncomfortable angle. "_Do not cross me and do not fail me. Son or not, it will mean your death_."

But what did John really have to lose? He would go down fighting which wasn't so bad of a way to go.

* * *

><p>Hermione felt helpless as she watched Harry suffer. It was the first vision since Harry had at least gained some Occlumency skill. They had barely gotten back to headquarters when it set on. She felt her eyes watering as her best friend continued to suffer.<p>

And then his eyes opened. "He knows," Harry breathed out. "He knows we know about the Horcruxes. He's going to Hogwarts soon."

"What?" Hermione asked, though she had heard. It was too soon. She knew it was too much to ask for Voldemort to remain clueless but they weren't prepared. They still had another Horcrux to find and a snake to kill. "I mean, what's the plan?"

Harry sat up, rubbing his scar, but he didn't stand, instead choosing to lean against the couch. "The last one's in Hogwarts," he told her. "That's all I know. I think we have time. He'll check on the others first. And he still can't get through the wards." He paused. Something else was bothering him.

"There's something else," Hermione probed.

"John," Harry said, eyes closing. "He's the reason I saw this." Hermione only stared at him so Harry continued. "I was able to block it out when Voldemort figured out I had the Horcrux but afterwards…John pissed him off. He knew that I wouldn't be able to stop a vision if Voldemort was angry enough. Even with Occlumency."

Hermione suddenly felt incredibly angry. "John did this to you?" She couldn't believe it. Back before John turned spy, he would have never even considered putting Harry through this kind of pain. Was Harry right? Even if they didn't lose John to Voldemort, was he still lost to them?

Harry sighed. "What I felt couldn't be anything like what he felt." He ran his hand through his hair. "Hermione, I felt what Voldemort was feeling. I watched as—no I tortured John. Watched him scream. Heard his voice after he had screamed his throat raw. Took pleasure when he spit up his own blood."

Hermione's heart sank. John set up his own torture just to get the message to Harry. She didn't know whether she was going to hug him or hex him the next time she saw him. Studying Harry for just a moment, she wondered what it was that caused him to look so sick: pain or the feelings he had felt. The experience of torturing someone he loved.

Hermione helped Harry to his feet before moving to a cabinet. She pulled out some essence of dittany. Harry and she rubbed them over their burns, Harry's by far worse than hers, but he didn't even flinch as he rubbed at his wounds.

"We need to get to Hogwarts," Harry said, as he rubbed the last of it on his face.

"We have to inform the Order," Hermione insisted, grabbing his arm as he turned to leave. "This isn't just a mission. It's—"

"The final battle," Harry finished for her. It wasn't quite the words she was going to use but she felt it, too. Everything was about to crash down on them. The end was soon, whatever that end was. "Fine. But we can't wait for them. We need to find that Horcrux before Voldemort gets there."

Hermione hesitated as Harry left the room. A horrible thought passed through her head. What if Harry wasn't ready? The most powerful wizard in the world against a seventeen year old boy, admittedly an exceptionally powerful seventeen year old. Not to mention that odd feeling she was getting in her stomach. There was something about Harry's scar…But she ignored the thought. Harry didn't fail, not when it mattered most.

"Hermione!" Harry's voice called from the hallway. She hurried to join him. He was at the top of the landing. "None of the Order members are here," he told her.

"Remus must be at Tonks' parents' house," Hermione guessed. "Malfoy?" It looked like they were about to make Malfoy their messenger boy again. "Point me," she muttered. The library.

Harry and Hermione rushed to the library to find both Malfoy and his mother. They both sighed in relief. Malfoy opened his mouth.

"Just listen," Harry interrupted. "You need to gather the Order. Send them to Hogwarts."

"Where are you going?" Mrs. Malfoy asked, standing. She sounded almost worried.

"Hogwarts," Malfoy answered for them. "What's the rush?"

"Stop asking questions," Harry snapped. "Voldemort is going to break the wards. Don't you get it? He's going to be in Hogwarts. This is it." Hermione watched as he sent one last glare at Malfoy. "Gather the Order." His voice was strong, authoritative. Yes, this was it.

A.N. I don't know if anyone noticed but in DH, Griphook told Harry to cast the Imperius curse. Here, I had Harry make the decision on his own. This Harry, who has been influenced by John, thought of it himself. Unlike the Cruciatus in the final battle in DH, Harry made this decision quite consciously. Also in the movie, the dragon is Hermione's idea. In the book, it's Harry's. I definitely chose to go with the book. The dragon is sooo a Harry idea.


	43. Arrival

_Mutant Son_

AN. Thanks you for reading and especially reviewing! Obviously a lot of DH coming up but it won't match up exactly. I may skip over some areas in the next few chapters in hopes that people remember DH, for example Harry's conversation with the Grey Lady. Also, I think the story is going to be a little longer than I thought. Only a little. Maybe one or two more chapters. Apparently a lot still needs to happen. In this chapter, I'm going to add a bit of humor since a lot of depressing stuff is coming up.

**Chapter 43: Arrival**

McGonagall couldn't quite believe her eyes when she spotted Pyro at her door, looking the worse for wear. Her eyes narrowed. "What do you want?"

Pyro threw himself into the chair in front of her desk. "Check the hostility. I'm not in the mood," he told her. "I'm looking for Ron."

"And what makes you think I will let you anywhere near him?" McGonagall challenged. Sure, it was dangerous to challenge him, but she already kept her cool around one traitor, she wasn't going to with another, especially one who occupied such a gray area. An enemy was an enemy; it was the way she had to keep it.

"Because," Pyro started tiredly, "I'm trying to be a good little spy and get necessary information to him."

That gave McGonagall pause. "Spy?" she practically choked out.

He glared. "Yeah, about that, I really appreciate the confidence you all had in me," he sneered. "It's like: he's Voldemort's son, of course he'd go dark side."

"Well," she sniffed, trying to recover. "Personally it was by your own merit that made your betrayal unsurprising."

"Are you going to tell me where to find Ron or not?" Pyro asked, glaring almost petulantly at his feet. He was still a teenager, McGonagall remembered unhappily. Just a boy. But then again what was the line between teenager and adult, the bad guy and someone doing bad things. Pyro was almost twenty and he had a lot of deaths to his name. Had he passed both thresholds already?

"I have no reason to trust you," McGonagall said, returning her eyes to the papers she was grading.

"Of course," Pyro replied, standing. "You wouldn't." He went to leave but quickly turned back. McGonagall looked up at him when she heard him laugh darkly. "I don't know why I expected differently. Teaches me to have any confidence in anyone, huh?"

She studied him for a moment. He looked frustrated and exhausted. The way he held his body was different. "Are you alright?" she asked carefully.

He stared at her in disbelief. "You won't tell me where Ron is but you're checking up on me?" He evaluated her. "If you really wanna know, I just got myself tortured to get some info to your favorite Chosen One or whatever you're calling him now. Maybe the Light Avenger or something." He seemed to almost be mumbling his last words to himself.

Though due to his behavior she didn't doubt he had indeed been tortured, McGonagall still didn't know whether to trust him. Previous experience, however, told her to err on the side of caution. Yet, the boy who stood in front of her seemed to be legitimately looking for her help and every bone in her body told her she was looking at someone close to broken. But, instead, she said, "You have killed for your father. How can I trust that?"

Pyro evaluated her now, perhaps sensing she was unsure. "Tell me, who did I kill?"

McGonagall thought for a moment. It hit her that she didn't know. There were never any names. The radio always mentioned a body count, but never names, at least not those burnt in his fires. She stared at him. "I can't…how?"

"You don't think I know what a body burnt to ash looks like?" Pyro asked her. "The only people I've ever killed were Death Eaters. You gonna go out on a limb for me?"

McGonagall eyed him carefully. "No," she decided, calmly averting her eyes, ignoring the guilt she felt. Pyro shook his head, running a hand through his hair. A Potter habit.

"Whatever," he mumbled, turning and leaving. He slammed the door behind him.

McGonagall waited for a few moments before not so neatly stacking her papers and leaping to her feet. She cast a number of spells to make sure she wasn't being followed as she made her way to Gryffindor tower. That meeting had certainly thrown her off if she was behaving so foolishly but she needed to make sure Ron Weasley was safe. Pyro had never liked him (not that Pyro liked many people, it was a rather short list after all) and his father knew perfectly well of Weasley's loyalties. She was surprised they hadn't come for him before.

McGonagall stopped in front of the Fat Lady. "Weasley's Wizard Wheezes," she said quickly before the Fat Lady could speak to her. She climbed quickly into the common room. Heads turned to look at her.

"Younger years to your rooms," she ordered. They didn't argue as they scurried to their rooms. Weasley stood to meet her. "Oh Weasley, thank Merlin."

"What?" he asked urgently. "Did something happen?" His sister and Longbottom stood up behind him. The leaders of the Hogwarts resistance.

"Pyro's in the castle," McGonagall informed him. "Looking for you."

Weasley nodded before glancing around the room. "Uh…besides Ginny and Neville, everyone go to your rooms." While his voice lacked the same authority as hers, it seemed to hold some ground. Nevertheless, Finnigan was about to argue. "Just for a few minutes, Seamus. Trust me." Finnigan closed his mouth and the others followed his lead as they headed to their rooms. They had truly accepted Weasley's leadership.

Weasley, meanwhile, appeared torn after they left, but he decidedly turned to Longbottom. "Neville, you're in charge here. Gather the DA in Arianna's place." Yes, the new room where Albus's long dead sister stood in her portrait.

"Where are you going?" Ginny asked, grabbing her brother's arm.

"Yes, a valid question," McGonagall agreed, staring at him sternly.

Weasley looked between them. "I'm going to find Pyro."

"What!" Ginny practically shouted. "Are you suicidal? He'll bring you straight to You-Know-Who!"

He smiled wryly. "Somehow I doubt it." He put a hand on Ginny's shoulder. "Trust me; I know what I'm doing."

"He's the enemy, Ron," she insisted. McGonagall may have agreed earlier but now she wasn't so sure. She felt horrible thinking it, but part of her was relieved Weasley was making the decision she couldn't. To trust.

Weasley looked at his sister then McGonagall. "Things aren't ever black and white. If he wants to see me, it has something to do with Harry. And if it's Harry, it's worth the risk."

"Weasley, Pyro's loyalties are not what they were," McGonagall stated though she didn't know whether she believed that. But Pyro was also good at manipulation, she knew that. She wouldn't trust without proof.

"Love doesn't just stop, right?" he asked her. "Whatever his loyalties are, Harry's the one person he won't watch die."

"You don't know that, Ron," Longbottom stepped up.

"No offense, Neville, but you don't know him," Weasley argued.

"And you do?" Ginny challenged, forcing herself between him and the portrait hole. "He's your best friend's ex-boyfriend so obviously you're the expert."

"I know enough," Weasley insisted. "Like the way he looks at Harry or even how, after only two months of knowing him, he sat at Harry's bedside. Didn't eat, didn't sleep. That's enough for me right now." He calmed himself down, probably recognizing that his sister had to be reassured here. "Ginny, Pyro's not exactly subtle. If he was looking for me to bring to his father, we would feel the fire at our door step. Snape and the other professors know where our common room is. He didn't have to go for McG—Professor McGonagall."

McGonagall studied him for a moment. "Very well," she decided. It was a good argument and one she wanted to believe. "Go, then." Ginny stared at her in shock. "He claimed to me that he was a spy. I do not know if it is the truth, but his end game does not seem to be to bring your brother to You-Know-Who." Ginny shut her mouth and Weasley brushed past her. He didn't look back as he hurried out the portrait.

* * *

><p>John didn't know what to do. One thing was for certain, he wasn't going to make any attempts to take down the wards. He doubted he could anyway. Besides, his father's blood ran through his veins. If he could use his blood to take down his father's wards, his father could use his own to take down wards John's blood put up. So he found himself in the shadows cast by a large tree beside the lake, smoking a cigarette. Waiting. But for what? Harry? The battle?<p>

Or apparently Ron Weasley who was making his way towards John. Ron paused as he folded up a large piece of parchment and shoved it in his pocket. "McGonagall said you're looking for me," he said. He peered at John. "You don't appear to be looking very hard."

John shrugged, taking a drag. "Got tired."

"Yeah, you kind of look like shit," Ron said, moving closer to the tree, perhaps hoping to be better concealed. "Did you meet the wrong end of a Cruciatus or something?" John didn't answer. Ron's face fell. "You did, didn't you?" Again, John didn't answer. "Anyone ever tell you that you're one crazy bastard."

"It's been said," John replied, finally really looking at Ron. "You still believe I'm on your side?"

"Yeah, I do," Ron said.

John put out his cigarette, but didn't bother standing. "Voldemort will be here…within the night I think. You should probably track that Horcrux down."

Ron glared. "You waited this long to tell!"

John shrugged. "Harry will be here soon enough," he responded, looking Ron over from head to toe. "And frankly, I don't have much confidence in you finding the thing."

"You don't get it, do you?" Ron asked angrily, his fist clenching. "I need to prepare everyone. If You-Know-Who's going to be here then—"

"Then nothing," John snapped, finally standing. "Harry can't do a thing without that Horcrux. You need to get that thing gone by the time my father gets here. Number one here is to watch Harry's back. You make a move too soon and you put him in danger and you give my father all the cards." Maybe John was a little tense but for some reason Ron's stupidity bothered him more than usual. He took a step towards Ron, challenging him. "You got it?"

Ron glared. "I got it," he gritted out. He too took a step forward. "Listen, Pyro, this is where your role as spy ends. You're with me from now on."

"No fucking way, Weasley," John responded. "I'm not blowing my cover until I need to. Or until Harry orders me to. I don't take your orders."

"Yeah, well, as much as it pains me to say it, I could use your help," Ron said, glaring but taking a step back. "We got to start thinking like Harry if we're going to get anywhere. You and me together, I think we can do that." John couldn't help it, he snickered. "What?" Ron asked defensively.

"No one can think like Harry," John informed him. "He just rode a fucking dragon out of Gringotts."

Ron stared. "Bloody lunatic." But then he laughed. "Only Harry."

John smiled slightly. "Yeah, only Harry."

"I can't believe I missed that." Ron measured him up. "So you with me?"

He weighed the pros and cons. He didn't necessarily need to blow his cover. Not yet. What better way for Ron to be allowed to wander around the castle than if Pyro was having a bit of fun with him. "Yeah, I'm with you." John paused. "But I'm not taking any orders from you. I don't care who you have listening to you now."

"I have no illusions that you'd even listen to me," Ron replied. "You barely listen to Harry." Then Ron paused, too. "Just so we're clear: I'm not taking orders from you either."

They looked at each other. "You have a starting point?" John asked.

"I think I know what the Ravenclaw Horcrux is: her diadem." John stared at him. What was a diadem? "It's a tiara thing apparently. Anyway that's all I have there."

"So in other words, you got nothing?" John clarified. Ron glared. "Do you know the chances of randomly finding a tiara in a place this size?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "I'm not done, you git. I figure, right now, we get our hands on something that can destroy it, because I can't cast fiendfyre," Ron admitted. "But I've been practicing something. I might be able to get the Chamber of Secrets open. I think I can mimic Harry's—"

"You don't have to mimic anything," John interrupted. "I got it covered." He had to admit, it was a good idea and, despite John's disparaging remarks, Ron had gotten further in the whole Horcrux hunt than he had thought.

Ron stared at him. "You're a parseltongue."

"Unfortunately," John made a face before looking to Ron. "So lead the way?"

They made a detour to the Quidditch pitch to grab a broom before they made their way quickly to the castle. For a moment, John eyed the broom. He wasn't getting on one of those things, especially not with Ron.

"Listen, if we run into anyone, let me handle it," John said as they ducked around a corner.

Ron looked at him uncertainly. "You're not going to say that we're sneaking into a cupboard for a snog or anything, are you?"

John stared at him. "Like anyone's going to believe that." He checked to make sure the hallway was clear. "I don't do gingers," John added, which wasn't exactly true. He wasn't known to discriminate when it came to sex.

Ron jerked him back into a room, pushing John behind him. He left the door open a crack, peering through it. Sighing, he turned to John who was glaring at him. John didn't appreciate being man-handled. He was still sore. "Just a ghost."

"Why all the cloak and daggers anyway?" John asked, brushing past him and out the room. Ron hurried to follow which was good since John didn't actually know where he was going. "I told you. I can make up some half-assed excuse, like you know how Harry put up the wards. Or since I don't like you, you seemed like good practice for the evil arts. Gotta perfect the art of torture or something."

Ron continued to ignore him. "There," he nodded towards a door. "Not exactly where someone would look for a mysterious hidden chamber, huh? The girl's toilet."

"I don't know," John replied, heading towards the door. "Maybe Slytherin was a perv or something." Ron choked and John swung open the door. Just a regular bathroom, admittedly with a little too much water on the floor.

"Myrtle?" Ron asked hesitantly. There was no response. Ron sighed in relief. "That's one thing, isn't it? No Myrtle. She doesn't like me, only had eyes for Harry. Well, she doesn't like Harry anymore either." He glanced at John who had made his way to the sink. Kneeling, he spotted the snake engraved on the pipe. Did they really have plumbing a thousand years ago? Somehow John doubted it. Someone must've updated the entrance at one point. "She didn't take Harry almost killing that git Malfoy well. Apparently she had a crush on him."

John looked at Ron. It occurred to him that both Ron and he had to fill up awkward silences with words. Harry could do silence, though. It drove John nuts. Well at least it used to. Now, it sounded good. "What do I say?" he finally asked.

"Try 'open'," Ron suggested.

John stared at the snake for a moment before closing his eyes. He imagined Nagini in his head. "_Open_," he hissed. Ron pulled him back as the sink shifted, revealing a tunnel. Stepping towards it, John glanced down it. He couldn't see much. "We just jumping in?" he asked.

Ron nodded. "Nothing to it."

John stared into the darkness for a second. "And you're sure that thing is dead, right?" He didn't like going in blind. He didn't exactly like the dark to begin with, never mind with the knowledge that it was once home to a monster. Too many screams came from the dark. Not that he was scared. Nervous maybe.

"You doubt Harry?" Ron asked, pushing him out of the way.

"Maybe a twelve year old Harry, yeah," John replied, glaring. Again with the man-handling. "Who puts their faith in a twelve year old?"

Ron paused. "I never thought of it that way." He too glanced a bit cautiously through the tunnel. "Then again I was twelve, well thirteen, at the time, too."

John took a breath. "Well, eyes open then. At least we know if it's not dead, it's blind and missing a fang." He paused. "I wonder how well it would burn."

Ron stared at him as if he was insane. Maybe he was. He took a step, sliding through the darkness.

* * *

><p>The moment they landed in Hogsmeade, the alarms sounded. Harry and Hermione stuck to the shadows. If they could only get to the Shrieking Shack. Hermione pulled Harry back as a group of cloaked figures rounded the corner. They ducked.<p>

"I don't think they saw us," Harry said, though he continued kneeling.

"This isn't going to work," Hermione whispered. "There are too many people around. We can't possibly—"

"Psst, Potter," a voice called. "Over here."

Harry only saw a dark figure at a back door, he didn't even know to what building. He had never exactly snuck around the back alleys of Hogsmeade before. Harry eyed the figure cautiously. He spotted a head of gray hair. Harry elbowed Hermione who followed his lead, raising her wand.

"Don't aim those at me," the man hissed out. "Quick, before you are seen."

"And why should I trust you?" Harry stood, carefully staying a little in front of Hermione. She huffed behind him.

"Because my brother once told me of an eleven year old boy looking into a mirror and seeing a family he could never have," the voice growled. "He told me you would be cautious."

"Your brother?" Hermione asked.

"Albus Dumbledore. Now hurry."

It was like the man had said the magic words: Dumbledore. Harry and Hermione hurried towards Aberforth and ducked into the building. They could hear shouts from the streets as the Death Eaters searched for the intruders. Harry turned to study Aberforth and paused. The Hog's Head barkeeper. This was Dumbledore's brother? Then again, Harry seemed to recall seeing a goat in here at one point. Didn't Dumbledore say something about a brother who got in a spot of trouble over something involving a goat?

"Mr. Dumbledore," Hermione acknowledged.

Aberforth looked between them. "At least one of you has manners." He eyed Harry. "I thought Albus would have made sure you had those. Can't have a leader not know his etiquette." He turned. "Though a sacrificial lamb may not need those, would it?"

Harry glared. "I'm not a sacrificial lamb," he said even as he and Hermione followed Aberforth down the stairs.

They barely reached the basement when Aberforth turned on his heel, blue eyes cold in a way his brother's never were. "Then what are you doing here? It is over. Give up and you may just live to see eighteen."

Harry's jaw tensed as he bore his eyes into Aberforth's. "This war's not over until either me or Voldemort is dead," he stated. "And I can guarantee you: I'm not stopping until my parents' murderer is dead."

"So much bravery and so headstrong," Aberforth sneered. "Yes, my brother would have valued that. Made you so much easier to manipulate into being the hero, I'm sure."

"Dumbledore didn't manipulate me," Harry snapped. "I'm my own man."

"Are you?" Aberforth asked as he stepped away. "Can you tell me that you are not still following my brother's orders, even from the grave?"

"Your brother gave me a job to do," Harry said coldly. "And I'm going to get it done. Now you can either help me or get the fuck out of my way."

Aberforth paused. "You have spirit, I'll give you that." He glanced for a moment at Hermione who was staring at a portrait on the far wall.

"This is your sister," Hermione said, hand hovering at the bottom of the frame.

"Yes, that's Arianna," Aberforth confirmed. "Not long before Albus got her killed." He turned back to Harry. "Tell me, do you know who your mentor really was?"

"I trust him," Harry insisted, only momentarily looking the portrait over. "And I know about your sister. I know about your brother and Grindelwald too. I just don't care."

"Then you are a fool. Though rumor has it that you have just as questionable taste in lovers as Albus," Aberforth said, turning. Harry's glare grew. Both Dumbledore and John were a sore topic. "No matter. A bit of advice: forget what my brother sent you off to do. He's been known to let people die for his causes. If I were you, I would high tail it out of here."

"No," Harry said determinedly. "Listen, you didn't have to help us, but you did. Now help us get to Hogwarts or point us in the right direction because that's the only place I'm heading. This war isn't over until I say it is, you got that?"

That made Aberforth turn back to him. For a moment, Harry thought he could see respect in his eyes but it was too quick to tell. "Very well, Harry Potter. Get yourself killed for all I care." He walked over to Arianna's portrait. Hermione shuffled out of the way. Though she glanced over at Harry, he refused to look away from Aberforth. "You know what to do," he said to the portrait. The brown haired girl nodded, before turning away and walking down a long tunnel. Harry saw her grow smaller and smaller until she disappeared.

Aberforth turned to leave but Hermione stopped him. "Please, Mr. Dumbledore. You haven't really given up. If you had you wouldn't have helped us in the first place."

"This was my brother's war," Aberforth said softly. "And the fool got himself killed. For what?"

"This is everyone's war. And Dumbledore fought for our world, the wizarding world, the muggle world, everything because that's what Voldemort wants." Hermione corrected. Harry glanced at her. It had been a long time since she used his name. "Are you just going to sit back and let Voldemort have it?"

Aberforth looked at Hermione then him one more time before leaving, saying nothing else. They stood in silence.

"Harry look," Hermione grabbed his attention a moment later. Harry turned back to her where she stood near the portrait. Arianna was returning but she wasn't alone. Someone was returning with her. Harry gripped his wand just in case Aberforth had betrayed them but his grip soon weakened as the portrait swung open.

"Neville," Hermione whispered in shock. Harry wasn't too far behind her because there stood Neville Longbottom, a little beaten up but with a wide smile on his face.

"Hermione! Harry!" Neville pulled Hermione into a hug. He seemed about to hug Harry too but must've noticed Harry's careful step backwards. "It's about damn time," he said instead. "We're all gathered anyway. The whole DA. Follow me."

Exchanging looks, Harry and Hermione followed Neville into the tunnel. "Where are we?" Hermione asked.

"A tunnel under Hogwarts," Neville informed her. "Some time after the Death Eaters took over, the castle started fighting back. First we could get into the Room of Requirements from places across the castle. Then a room appeared with this portrait of Arianna Dumbledore. It didn't take long to figure out that it led to the Hog's Head. Aberforth has helped us when he could. Information mostly…"

Neville continued to rattle on but Harry mostly ignored him. That was until he heard Ron's name. "Ron's been leading us. Keeping us ready, protecting the little ones."

"Ron," Hermione breathed.

"He's good Hermione," Neville told her. "Worried, a little tired but good. Can't stop worrying about you two. Anyway, he ordered us to Arianna's place before he went looking for Pyro."

"John's in the castle?" Harry asked, stopping. Neville turned to look at him curiously.

"Yeah, why?" Neville asked. He looked at Hermione. "He really is a spy?" he asked in shock. "We thought he was just telling McGonagall that, I me—"

But Harry interrupted him. "How did he look?"

Neville's eyebrows furrowed. "I don't really…Harry I don't swing that way."

"Not that way," Harry growled in frustration. "Did he look hurt?"

"I didn't see him, Harry," Neville said carefully. "McGonagall brought Ron the message." Harry felt Hermione's hand on his arm.

"Harry, we need to keep going," she said gently. "I know you're worried but…listen, if we know anything it's that John can take care of himself."

Harry nodded though he didn't particularly agree. Neville continued to lead them towards the castle and Harry followed closely behind Hermione. Yeah, John could take care of himself but how much longer? John was strong, Harry knew that, but he also knew that he might have asked too much from him. What if…no he had to stop thinking about John. There was the wizarding world to think about now.

Finally they reached a dead end. Neville raised his hand and knocked, four times, then three, then two, then one. Either Neville had gotten quirky in their absence or that was the password of sorts. The portrait swung open. Neville paused in the opening.

"What did Aberforth want?" Seamus asked, biting into a sandwich.

"Nothing much," Neville said with a grin. "Had something for us." He jumped down to the floor, revealing Hermione then Harry.

They were met by cheers. Several people came rushing over to pat Harry and Hermione on the back. Harry took them all in, mostly sixth and seventh years though he spotted a few others. There was almost all of the Gryffindor sixth and seventh years besides Parvati and plus little Dennis Creevey, a similar showing for the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws and…a handful of Slytherins. Had they really taken his speech on the Hogwarts Express to heart?

Then very unexpectedly, Harry found himself with an armful of Ginny. He hugged her back tightly. He hadn't known that he had missed her. She pulled away from him and gave Hermione the same treatment.

"Oh, wait until Ron sees you," Ginny said to the both of them. "He's been unbearable, wondering where you guys have been. He's felt so useless."

"Not that he has been," Neville told them. "He kept the DA going strong." He nodded over to the Slytherins. "And really put down his prejudices for the cause."

Harry glanced at the Slytherins. He only recognized Blaise Zabini and Daphne Greengrass. There was a girl that looked like Daphne and two others. Not many, but enough. Harry met Zabini's eyes. "Malfoy's safe," he told him. "He's gathering the Order for us." Harry turned to the rest of the room. "The rest of the Order will be here soon. Voldemort will be here. I don't know when but soon."

"So what's our move?" Seamus asked, grinning widely.

"Your move? Nothing yet," Harry said. He searched the room. "Where _is_ Ron?"

"What do you mean nothing?" Seamus asked. Ginny elbowed him in the side.

"He disappeared with Pyro," Ginny told them. "He hasn't come back." Harry and Hermione exchanged looks.

Harry cleared his throat. "Uh, it's good to see you guys, it really is and there will be stuff to do soon, I promise, but right now I have to speak to Ginny and Neville."

There were a few groans but they all nevertheless stepped away even as Harry, Hermione, Ginny, and Neville gathered in a corner. "That was easy," Hermione said, glancing back at the rest of the DA.

Neville shrugged. "They're used to it. Harry's at least nicer about it than Ron." Harry smiled, shaking his head. Sounded like Ron. Ron who he would see for the first time in about six months. It would be good to have him by his side again.

"This is about Pyro, right?" Ginny asked, getting them back on track.

"How long ago did Ron go looking for John?" Hermione asked.

"A few hours," Ginny responded. "You don't think that he's in danger do you? I told him. I told him not to go…that Pyro couldn't be trusted."

"Gin, calm down," Neville told her, eying Harry. "You going to tell her?"

"Tell me what?" Ginny snapped, looking between them.

"John's not going to hurt Ron," Harry told her. "He probably went to get information to him."

"Harry, that doesn't explain why he's not back yet," Hermione said nervously.

"So it's true?" Ginny asked, eyes wide. "Pyro _is_ your spy."

Harry nodded, catching her eyes. "Yes and you can't tell anyone, Gin. I don't know what his plan is, but he might still need his cover. I can't…I mean if the Death Eaters find out…" Harry didn't know how to finish. He wasn't even sure what he had wanted to say.

Ginny's eyes dropped in intensity for a moment, softening a bit. "Harry, we don't get anyone on our side killed if we can help it. We have his back. Even if _I_ don't like him." She smiled at him and Harry returned it. This was the girl he once thought he might love. It took really falling in love to find out that what he felt for her wasn't even close to the real thing. At least not yet.

Finally, Harry turned to Hermione. "If you were Ron and you knew that Voldemort was on his way, what would you do?"

Hermione thought for a moment. "Try to finish it off. Find the…" she glanced at Ginny and Neville. "The you know what."

"The diadem," Neville inserted. Hermione stared at him. "Ron didn't tell us much, just that we were looking for an heirloom of Ravenclaw's."

"Yeah," Ginny confirmed. "The diadem is the only thing we've been able to think of."

"Do you know where it is?" Harry asked tensely. Ginny shook her head. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Okay, then what is Ron doing?"

"Harry," Hermione said, eyes going wide. "If he couldn't find the…diadem…what would his next step be?"

Harry stared at her. "This isn't exactly time for guessing games. If you know something then just say it."

"He would need a way to destroy it," Hermione said excitedly.

"So fiendfyre," Harry guessed. He paused, thinking he had caught on. "He'd need John to control it."

Hermione shook her head. "No not fiendfyre. He wouldn't think that he could cast it. He wouldn't risk it."

"He doesn't have any way to find the sword," Harry continued, looking at her. "You don't have any other ideas do you?" Hermione shook her head in frustration. Obviously, she thought that Harry would think of something from her launching point.

"Right," Harry said bracingly. "Then we just have to trust John and Ron to do whatever it is that they have to do. We'll look for the diadem."

Harry focused in on Ginny and Neville. "Be ready. I don't know for when or what but be ready. Inform the Order that we have to finish something but to be ready for battle. Tell the DA to follow Remus's lead."

Ginny and Neville nodded. "So about Pyro…" Neville trailed off.

"Harry, if we don't tell the Order, one of them might make a move against him," Ginny said carefully.

"John can take care of himself," Harry said, avoiding her eyes. "At least in that department. We can't risk his cover, not when he's not prepared." He turned to Hermione. "You ready?"

"For what?" Hermione asked as the other two walked away, shouting orders. She looked frustrated. "What's our first move? The books have told us nothing. The diadem must have been lost for ages, Voldemort could have been the first person to see it in how long. I mean, unless you know someone who's been around way longer than Voldemort or even Dumbledore—"

Harry froze. "Malfoy said go to the source."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "That was Grindelwald, I sincerely doubt Malfoy or Grinde—"

"No not Malfoy," Harry said insistently. "The point is that if you want to know something the books can't tell you, you find someone who knows first-hand."

"Harry," Hermione started exasperatedly, "anyone who knew first-hand is…." She stared at him.

"Dead?" Harry suggested. But before they could do anything, an announcement sounded through the room.

"_Students gather in the Great Hall. Any students who refuse will be punished_."

* * *

><p>"We're never mentioning that, ever," Ron said, shaking his robes clear. John stared distastefully at his shoes which were covered in some sort of sludgy material. He was pretty sure some little mice bones were probably embedded somewhere in them.<p>

John looked at Ron momentarily. "Don't want people to know you got up close and personal with a gay guy?"

"You rode on my broom, not copped a feel," Ron wrinkled his nose when he realized what exactly he said.

John stared. "Never, and I mean never, say that again." He knew there were just too many broom innuendos to ever be able to live that trip down even in his own mind.

"Yeah, agreed," Ron nodded. John turned his eyes to the fang in Ron's hands.

"You're not going to accidentally poison yourself with that or anything, are you?" John asked.

Ron rolled his eyes. "I think I can handle it."

"Make sure that you do," John said, moving towards the door. "I don't want to have to explain to Hermione that her boyfriend went and got himself killed by sticking a poisonous fang in his back pocket."

"Where are you going?" Ron asked, ignoring John's comment.

"What? You need me to hold your hand?" John commented, eyebrows raised. "I'm gonna go join the other Death Eaters. Mingle, make small talk. You know, 'I tortured this one guy this time' and 'this time when I was killing this muggle'…you know the usual."

Ron stared. "Is that really Death Eater small talk?"

John shrugged. "Maybe, I don't exactly talk to them much. Insult them maybe. I'm pretty sure anything they say is pretentious as hell. Wizarding stock bonds or something." Ron looked lost. "Never mind. The point is, I'm going to get back to where Harry wanted me and you're going to go either find him or wait for him."

"So you're not going to help me?" Ron asked slowly. John glanced at him for a moment. Was Ron feeling the pressure? Lonely even? It was a possibility. Harry had Hermione, who did Ron have? His sister maybe, but she wasn't exactly ranked high enough for classified information.

John sighed. Was he supposed to comfort him? "Listen, Ron, you got this, alright? I'm not gonna be any help to you."

Ron looked at his shoes for a moment before looking back up. He appeared to have gained back his bravado. "Don't get yourself killed, alright."

"Yeah, you too," John said awkwardly. Looking back one more time, he made his exit. Did he just bond with Ron Weasley?

He was halfway down to the Great Hall when he heard the announcement. "_Students gather in the Great Hall. Any students who refuse will be punished_." Harry must've been spotted somewhere. John jogged down the stairs a little faster in an attempt to both avoid the coming wave of students and get more information.

When he entered the Great Hall, a number of students and John was pretty sure all of the professors were already there. He glanced momentarily at Snape who watched him, one eyebrow raised.

"Where have you been?" Carrow sneered.

John looked at him non-plussed. "Toilet." It wasn't exactly a lie. He had been in the bathroom. In the plumbing actually. He ignored McGonagall's piercing gaze. "So what's going on?"

"The wards went off in Hogsmeade," Carrow said. "We are pretty sure Potter set them off." It looked like Harry had indeed gotten his message. "No matter," Carrow continued with a grin. "The Dark Lord is not too far from the castle. He will finish off your boyfriend soon."

Playing with his lighter, John watched as students continued to swarm in. He spotted Ginny and that Longbottom kid but no Ron. Had he found Harry yet? Or perhaps he was looking for the Horcrux on his own.

Finally, Snape stood. "It has come to our attention that Harry Potter has been spotted. We suspect that, at this very moment, he is somewhere in this castle." His dark gaze spanned the rows and rows of students. "Anyone caught aiding him will be aiding a fugitive and will be treated as such." A quick death sentence probably. At least Snape wanted them all to believe that. Even now Snape was playing the bad guy. But then again, so was John. As if reading his mind, Snape eyed him. "I assure you, Pyro will ensure that you get what you deserve."

"Out of curiosity," a voice rang out. A very familiar voice. John's blood ran cold as Harry stepped into a gap between the rows of students. Idiot. Dramatic, self-sacrificing idiot. "What exactly would they deserve?"

Whispers broke out across the room. "Silence!" Snape glared, hand going to his wand. "It was foolish to reveal yourself Potter."

Harry shrugged. "What can I say? I'm not really into the way you're running Hogwarts. It's time for a bit of educational reform."

With a jab of his wand, Snape sent a curse flying towards Harry, but Harry blocked it. John held himself back from jumping in. Snape would not harm Harry (at least not too badly); it would serve no purpose.

Harry ducked Snape's next spell, sending his own back. Snape managed to block it but the force of it caused him to take a step back. Out of the corner of his eye, John saw the Carrows aim their wands. He palmed a bit of fire in his hand, ready to take them out when they were blown across the room by McGonagall. John stared as McGonagall then threw herself between Snape and Harry.

"I can handle this, Professor," Harry said, eyes not leaving Snape's. John saw the hatred there. Would he still hate the man if he knew he was on their side? Probably.

"I believe it is high time I protect my students, Potter," McGonagall replied just as evenly. She raised her wand and began her attack. Snape blocked spell after spell as she beat away at his defenses. Either he was faking defeat or McGonagall was one hell of witch, maybe both. Suddenly, the door to the Great Hall swung open. John's heart lifted as he spotted Remus, the Weasleys, including Ron, Hermione, and a very not pregnant Tonks. A group of people stood behind them. It looked as if the cavalry had arrived.

Snape grabbed John's arms as McGonagall raised her wand again and a wave of powerful magic rushed through the air.

"Time to go," Snape muttered to him. Then they were enveloped in black smoke and crashing through the window. John had a feeling this wasn't going to be the last time he was man-handled that night.


	44. Bloodshed Part I

_Mutant Son_

A.N. Last HP movie came out on DVD…it's sooo depressing, especially the way their advertising it. I swear every time I hear 'the journey of a generation comes to an end' I want to cry. Good-bye childhood!

Anyway, this chapter will have similarities with DH but not completely. However, Harry's conversation with the Grey Lady would be word for word so I'll skip it. The most important part there anyway is that she tells them where to find the diadem. You might find that I skip out on the highest action but I'm not very good at writing it. Hopefully, you get enough to get the point.

**Chapter 44: Bloodshed Part I**

As soon as Snape and John disappeared, Harry and Remus met in the middle of the room. Hermione and Ron followed. Though all she really wanted to do was launch herself into Ron's arms, first thing was first: organize.

"Quiet down!" McGonagall shouted to the cheering students. The minute she gained control over the students she put the prefects momentarily in charge in order to consult with Harry and Remus. Hermione was glad that, as Harry's friends, Ron and she got full access even if they weren't in charge.

McGonagall turned a stern eye on Harry. "Snape was right: it was foolish of you to just show your face here. Have you ever heard of the element of surprise?"

Harry shrugged. "It got the Death Eaters out of the castle. I think they at least were surprised."

McGonagall hid a smile as she turned to everyone else. "It is great to see everyone alive and well." Remus smiled but there was no time for pleasantries. "You do have a plan, right Potter? Tell me you did not just rush into this head first."

Again Harry shrugged. Hermione rolled her eyes. "No, we came in head first." He continued before she could interrupt. "But this is what I'm thinking now. Voldemort's coming. Soon. Anyone seventeen or older has a choice: they can stay if they want. Everyone else gets to Arianna's place or the Room of Requirements. The sixth and fifth years will be put in charge of the younger years."

Remus nodded. "Yes, Minerva, if you please, get that going." McGonagall made no comment as she got to the task immediately. Remus didn't wait for her to continue. "What's going on Harry?"

Harry and Hermione exchanged glances. "Voldemort's coming," he repeated. "There's something in the castle he wants. And if I'm right, he's coming full force. He knows I'm close and he's going to try to finish it tonight."

"Does this have to do with what you've been researching all year?" Remus asked.

"Yeah. Listen Remus, Hermione, Ron, and I need to get to that thing before Voldemort does," Harry continued urgently.

McGonagall rejoined them. "What do you need?" she asked.

"Time," Harry informed them, taking a quick breath. "Hold them off as long as you can. If the battle starts, I won't be able to fight. Not yet."

Remus's face fell. "But Harry—"

"I know," Harry said hurriedly. "But you and McGonagall have this. We'll be back."

"And if we see Pyro or Voldemort, what then?" Remus asked. Hermione stared at him. With Moody and Shackelbolt dead, that left Remus and McGonagall. It was becoming clear that Remus was not confident in his ability to lead in battle. At least not as the head.

Ron looked confused. "Pyro's a sp—"

"Special case," Hermione finished for him. She looked to Harry but his eyes had turned to the ground. Great, now she had a bunch of people staring at her and Harry wasn't helping. "Just don't kill him."

Remus looked at her oddly before turning to Harry again. "And Voldemort?"

"Avoid him at all cost," Harry said, jaw tense and green eyes blazing. "Don't engage him in battle. If worse comes to worst, distract him. But don't put yourself in the line of fire."

Remus nodded. "Got it. Now go." It looked as if Harry wanted to say something, but he swallowed his words. Harry sent him one last look before turning on his heel. Hermione and Ron rushed after him. As soon as the Great Hall's doors closed behind them, Hermione jumped Ron, crushing him to her.

"I missed you," she whispered into his ear.

"Me too," Ron responded, pulling away to smile at her. He kissed her before turning to Harry. "And you too." Harry nodded his head. "Geez, Harry, thanks for the emotion."

"Sorry. I missed you, too," Harry offered a smile. It was only partly forced. "It's just…there's a lot. And now's not really the time. I hear we have a diadem to find."

"Harry, we don't have the sword anymore," Hermione breathed, catching up to him. "How are we going to destroy them? We might have to risk fiendfyre."

"No," Harry shook his head roughly. "I can't. You know I can't."

"I'm obviously missing something here," Ron spoke up. "But I can solve the destroying thing." He pulled something out. A fang.

"Is that—Harry look," Hermione grabbed his arm, stopping him.

He turned around, "What? We don't have—" He stared. "Is that a basilisk fang?"

Ron grinned. "Yes it is. Me and your boyfriend had a little trip into the Chamber of Secrets."

"He's not my boyfriend," Harry muttered darkly before pulling out the cup. "Ron, stab it."

"Stab it?" Harry didn't answer, only laying the cup out on the floor. He stared at Ron. Ron looked at Hermione who only shrugged. "Maybe one of you should do it."

"You're the one with the fang," Harry told him. Still Ron hesitated. "Listen Ron, we don't have time. Just get it over with. You deserve this." Ron nodded and scrunched his face up in determination. Quickly he lunged at the cup, thrusting the fang full force into it. In the muggle world, a fang would fail to penetrate such precious metal, but a basilisk fang was certainly not muggle. It pierced the cup and a wail erupted through the hallway. Hermione and Ron hurriedly covered their ears as Harry seemed to lose his balance. A wave of magic pulsed through the wail before all was still and quiet again. The cup appeared burnt. The Horcrux was destroyed. There were only two left.

"Harry, are you okay?" Ron asked taking a step towards him. Hermione turned to Harry to see him rubbing away at his scar.

"I'm fine," Harry mumbled. "Good job," he said briskly. He looked them both over. "Just the diadem now." And again, Harry was rushing through the halls.

"Er…you're going awfully fast for someone who doesn't know where he's going," Ron said, a little annoyed.

"I know where I'm going," Harry told him. "Well, I know at least what I'm looking for."

"And what is that?" Ron asked a little breathlessly.

"A ghost," Hermione explained. "We think one of them may be able to help us out. Nothing may be in the books but someone knew something about the diadem at one point." Ron didn't appear to be following. Honestly, he could be both brilliant and incredibly dense in a span of less than a minute. "We're hoping that that someone had some unfinished business."

"Oh," Ron said. "Then we're going the wrong way."

Harry stopped in his tracks. "What do you mean? One of the ghosts is usually always in the seco—"

"If we want to know about the diadem then there's only one ghost to ask," Ron told him.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, interest beyond peaked.

"The Grey Lady," Ron said, looking back and forth between them. "The Ravenclaw ghost. Before she left, Luna said that the Grey Lady would know something."

"And you didn't mention this before because…" Harry trailed off expectantly.

Ron shook his head in frustration. "Do you have any idea how many times I tried to talk to her? She refused to speak to me and then eventually locked herself away in a nice un-cozy tower on the west side of the castle when I wouldn't leave her alone. I gave up."

"So it's useless then. How do you make a ghost talk?" Harry asked, hand roughly going through his hair. Any rougher and he would've pulled hair at.

"Well I don't," Ron said, exchanging looks with Hermione. Harry only appeared confused.

"You do," Hermione directed towards Harry. "_You_ can make her talk." Harry stared at them blankly. "It's a skill, Harry. In the end, they always talk to you. It's some kind of charisma you have."

"Charisma," Harry repeated. "We're depending on my so-called charisma." He sighed. "Ron, show me where she is. Any luck and she'll fall for the Potter charm."

"What's the Potter charm?" Ron asked as he turned and started leading Harry and Hermione towards the west end of the castle.

"I'm not sure," Harry told him. "But according to Remus, it exists."

* * *

><p>John never knew his father had so many followers but clearly his ranks had been growing for quite a while. Still, they couldn't all be Death Eaters. Probably just people ready to fight for his cause, or too scared to say no. One thing was clear: Voldemort had brought his army. Tonight, one way or another, everything was going to end.<p>

The crowd frantically began to part. John felt the magic before he saw his father. Voldemort was fuming and dark energy was rolling off of him in waves. And, unfortunately, it seemed as if Voldemort was coming straight towards him. Or Snape and Bellatrix. Why was John standing with them, in his father's line of fire? Oh, yeah, because Snape was refusing to let him out of his sight. He still hadn't figured out Snape's motives, even as a spy. John pulled out his lighter.

"Pyro," Voldemort hissed as he approached. "Have you made any progress with the wards?"

John met his eyes. Sure he was a little wand shy at the moment but that didn't mean he was going to give Voldemort the satisfaction of seeing his fear. After all, John was an expert at turning fear into anger. "No," John said. "But then again, I'm not a wizard. If my blood as heir of Slytherin helped put the wards up, yours should help bring them down. You can do it yourself."

"That does not solve the problem of Potter's blood," Bellatrix pointed out, eyes carefully avoiding her master's. Being the bearer of bad news rarely worked out around Voldemort, but as long as she took his father's attention off him, John didn't care.

"Greyback!" Voldemort called. John eyed the approaching werewolf with hatred. This animal targeted children on purpose. Children like the one Remus once was. John really hoped it would be Remus who brought the beast down.

"My lord," Greyback replied, careful to shape his growl of a voice into a tone of respect. John hadn't thought it possible.

"Once you get into the castle, you will track down Potter," Voldemort told him. "I want his blood."

"I will bring you his body," Greyback promised. John hid a snort as the werewolf bowed and retreated to his group—his pack. He seemed to be growling out orders.

"My lord," Snape interjected silkily. Unlike Bellatrix, he remained confident. He hadn't lost Voldemort's respect yet. "That beast cannot defeat Potter. It can only be—"

"Me, yes, I know," Voldemort replied quite evenly. His anger seemed to be cooling.

"He does not stand a chance against Potter, my lord," Bellatrix said, gaining back a little of her old spirit. Clearly, she wasn't going to let Snape out do her.

"No, he does not," Voldemort agreed. "But he need only make Potter bleed. One from his little pack will make sure to bring me some of Potter's blood. When one alpha falls, the beta will step up. They are animals. So predictable. Now, Severus, Bellatrix, prepare my friends for the breach of Hogwarts' walls. I may not yet be able to get in, but these wards have not been able to keep out my followers. Go."

With respectful bows of their heads, they did as their master ordered, but both sets of eyes traveled briefly to John: Snape's appraising and Bellatrix's…well John had no idea what her eyes were telling him.

John looked at his father once they were gone. "You didn't look so happy when you got here," he said evenly, flicking his lighter opened and closed. "Harry's destroyed them, hasn't he?"

Voldemort's eyes were fixed on Hogwarts. "Not all of them. Potter will be dead before he can finish Dumbledore's task."

John's eyebrows rose. "This just pure arrogance or you got a plan?"

Voldemort lips stretched in a smirk. "Potter is like his mudblood mother and blood traitor father before him. He will willingly die." His eyes turned to John's. "He will come to me and lay his life down before me."

"How can you be so sure?" John asked as his stomach twisted. He had no doubt that Harry would lay his life down even if Harry had once promised John to never do that. It was an empty promise then and especially now. A promise to John would mean nothing in Harry's eyes any longer.

"Because he will not let his friends die for him. Not after he sees the damage our first strike will do," Voldemort said, eerily calm. "You see, my son, people like you and I have no loyalties greater than the ones we have to ourselves. It makes us stronger. The heart is weak."

John's eyes turned to the castle. "If you have no heart, you can't be hurt," he said, not so much to his father but to himself. It wasn't an unfamiliar concept. John had come to that conclusion shortly after his mother took off and his dad began to drink and hit harder than ever. So whatever heart little Johnny Allerdyce had was locked away. He forgot that he once loved his mother no matter how often she turned him away. He forgot that, despite each bruise or broken bone, he loved his dad because he had taken care of John. Changed his diapers, read him stories when he was sober enough to see the words, gave him a pat on the back for acing his spelling test. That had, of course, all stopped after John's mother had left. It wasn't too hard to forget. It wasn't too hard to turn love into hate, especially such pathetic love. It had been all too easy to stop having a heart.

And then Charles Xavier and Bobby fucking Drake had to happen. They softened him up, made him think that maybe the world was just a little better than he had thought. Then they went and offered him up to the Order of the Phoenix, putting Harry Potter into his line of sight. They made him soft enough that Harry had gotten to him. If it had just been sex…his father was right, it was better not to have a heart. Too bad it was too late for that.

"Begin!" His father's voice rang out in the night air. He turned briefly to John, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Pyro, make me proud."

* * *

><p>Remus took in everyone left in the Great Hall. Most of the sixth and seventh years had remained, even a few Slytherins. A number of Order members had already arrived and many were on their way. He turned to McGonagall.<p>

"We'll be outnumbered," Remus told her. Even he could hear the intensity of his voice.

"I can better the odds," McGonagall said, a smile sneaking its way onto her face. "In times of war, there's magic to bring the castle to life. So to speak."

"The suits of armor," Remus realized. "Yes, I read that. I'll get the students organized while you call the suits of armor to arms."

"I leave you to it then," McGonagall replied briskly before hurrying out and into the halls.

Remus braced himself as he turned back to their fighters. Too many of them were students, not enough of them Order members. They were too young. But so were Harry, Hermione, and Ron, even the twins. He would put faith in them as witches and wizards just as they were placing their faith in him as a leader. His confidence grew ever so slightly with the knowledge that more Order members were arriving.

"I want four students to every two Order members. That will be your groups," Remus announced. "Students will take their orders from their supervising Order member. Everyone will take orders from either me or McGonagall."

"How about Potter?"

"Where is Potter?" The question seemed to float through the room.

"Harry has a mission to complete before he can fight with us," Remus told them. He saw the nervous shifting of feet and some anger.

"He's leaving everyone else to fight?" a girl in Slytherin robes asked derisively.

Remus shook his head before clearing his throat. "Harry asked for time and we're giving it to him. That doesn't mean he won't be here to fight. He will, but he needs our help now." He turned away from the Slytherin girl. "But if Harry gives you an order, you take it. He is as much the leader of the Order of the Phoenix as I am. I am willing to follow his lead and I ask that all of you be, too." They didn't seem to need much convincing on that front. It was clear that they planned all along to listen to Harry. Really, it was his absence throwing them off.

Some looked nervous, others determined. They needed someone to motivate them but Remus wasn't that person. "Form your groups." Neither students nor Order members hesitated. The room filled with chatter as they organized.

McGonagall returned. "I have the suits of armor guarding the entrances," she informed him. She glanced around at the chattering groups. "Have you organized them?" Remus nodded. "Good, because I can see Death Eaters at the edge of the wards. We must send the groups out through the grounds and castle. The bridge, the forest, the best tunnels."

McGonagall and Remus didn't speak any more on it, just made their way through the Great Hall assigning Order members to their locations. As he gave out his last assignment, he turned to find one last group waiting for him: Tonks, Seamus, Dean, Luna, and Neville. Dean and Luna must have followed Bill and Fleur to Hogwarts.

Tonks smiled at the students. "I think we got the all star team," she told her husband.

"Good," Remus replied, eyes skipping over hers. He couldn't think about how much he hated her being here at that moment. He couldn't think about his newborn son waiting for them at home. "We'll be covering the bridge." Remus's eyes landed on Seamus. "Are you still adept at…blowing things up?"

Seamus grinned. "I get better every day."

Remus nodded thoughtfully. He headed through the halls and to the bridge. Tonks walked by his side and the others trailed behind him. Once they reached the bridge, Remus stared hard towards the other end.

"Can you see anything?" Tonks asked softly.

"There are a lot of them," Remus replied, loud enough for the others to hear. It was a good time to have werewolf senses. "I can't make out specific forms but I know they're there." The Death Eaters seemed to be waiting for something.

He turned to his wife and group. "If we cannot take them out, we destroy this bridge. But that isn't our first option. Destroying the bridge destroys their access point but it also destroys one possible exit route." He eyed each of their solemn, determined faces. Faces that were both kid and adult. He shook the thought out of his head. This was it; they could no longer think of them as kids. "That being said, we want to avoid fire at all cost. Seamus, remember that. Pyro is a real threat. We cannot give him more fuel. He does not have the power to start fires but once they're going it will be difficult to stop him. Refrain from creating any more fuel sources for him."

As he said this, Dean was looking oddly to Luna and Neville, whose eyes were averted. But he didn't say anything. Did they know something about John?

"But Pyro's not a wizard," Seamus said. "He shouldn't be that hard to take down."

Tonks eyed him. "Never aim a curse at something you can't see. If your line of sight is covered by fire, do not shoot curses through it. You might hit someone you don't intend to."

Remus nodded. "Don't underestimate him, Seamus. He's a good fighter."

"How about You-Know-Who?" Neville asked.

"I doubt he'll approach from here, but nevertheless, don't engage him. Harry's orders are to stay out of his way."

Neville seemed to gladly accept the instructions, but his face soon fell. "No other warnings?" he asked.

"There all dangerous," Tonks told him. "Just be ready."

Remus, however, studied Neville more closely. "Neville," he said slowly. "Do not lose yourself in the middle of a fight. Anger and hatred seems helpful until it blinds you. I can promise you, I understand your hatred for Bellatrix and it'll be hard to control even myself. But you must fight smart with her." He was about to say something else when he felt the wards shake. "Wands ready," he ordered, eyes fixed at the end of the bridge.

"How long do you think until the extra wards—" Tonks began but suddenly, like lightening striking an invisible dome, the wards keeping the Death Eaters came down. "Never mind." Her face grew fierce. "Get in line," she ordered. Remus took point with the students flanking him. Tonks took the far position. She would be able to keep an eye on the fight as a whole from there.

The sound of dozens of feet hammering down on the wooden bridge grew louder and louder. "Shields up!" he ordered.

The Death Eaters became clearer and clearer as they approached. Remus didn't know whether to be relieved or not that he didn't recognize any of them. He didn't quite have the chance to think about it as the first spell hit their shields.

"Attack!" he called. Hurry Harry, he thought before sending out his first stunning spell.

* * *

><p>"Granger! Weasley!" a familiar voice called out to where Hermione and Ron were impatiently waiting for Harry to return from his talk with the Grey Lady. Hermione just wished she could do something now.<p>

Hermione turned, wand ready. "Malfoy?" she asked, shocked. Ron echoed her. Malfoy wasn't quite the last person she expected but he was close. She didn't think he would be willing to risk his life, even if he had helped them in the past. But there he was, white blond hair and robes neatly in place, his pale face betraying his nerves. "What are you doing here?" she finally asked.

"Mother wanted to be here to heal the injured," he told her.

"And you were hardly going to let your mother out do you," Hermione guessed.

Malfoy ignored her. "The Death Eaters have brought down the extra wards," he informed her. "Most of the younger years are out. I got the Weasley twins to re-direct them from Arianna's place and the Room of Requirements."

"Wait, why?" Ron snapped, enraged. "Do you want them dead?"

Malfoy glared. "No, do you? They can't get out through the Room of Requirements and Arianna' place has too many people coming in to fight. I had a few Slytherins lead them to the tunnels. They at least trusted me enough."

Ron's face was nearly red as he stepped towards Malfoy, but Hermione interrupted him. "Of course. Salazar Slytherin created escape routes in the case of an assault on the castle." She couldn't believe she had been that stupid. "Leave him alone, Ron. He's trying to help."

Ron didn't look too happy. "That doesn't explain why he's here and not making sure his Slytherin friends are doing as he told." At least, he had accepted that Malfoy wasn't evil. She supposed he must've heard about Malfoy's change in loyalties taking a more active role. It wasn't exactly a secret that Malfoy helped John escape Malfoy Manor all those months ago. Even so it was unexpected of Ron. But then again, so was him letting Slytherins into the DA.

"The Weasley twins are getting the news to the rest of the Order. I just happened to run into you on my way back to my mother," Malfoy said a little defensively. "Try not to get yourselves killed."

Ron stared as Malfoy walked away. "Like he'd really care," he muttered to Hermione.

Hermione watched Malfoy go. "It's not us he cares about," she told him. Ron looked lost but she wasn't about to get into it.

Malfoy hadn't been gone for more than a few minutes when Harry appeared, jogging down the steps leading to the tower. One look at his face told her that he got what he needed.

"I know where the diadem is," Harry breathed out. "Voldemort found it in Albania. He brought it back to the castle the night he applied for the Defense Against the Dark Arts job. Dumbledore was right: Voldemort _was_ up to something. He was hiding the diadem."

"But where?" Hermione asked frantically. "Harry the Death Eaters are already in the castle."

"I know," he said. "I felt the wards. Come one. He hid it in a place where he thought no one would ever find it. A secret room he thought only he knew about, the arrogant bastard." Ron snorted. Hermione glared at him but he refused to look sheepish.

"The Room of Requirements," Hermione guessed.

"Yeah but not as we know it," Harry told her. "The way it was when I got rid of Snape's old potions textbook."

"The place where Malfoy fixed the vanishing cabinets," Hermione continued.

"There's a lot of stuff in there," Harry told her. "We need to go now. The diadem's going to be nearly impossible to spot." He took off, Hermione following behind him. They didn't go far when they realized Ron wasn't following.

Ron was back where they had left him, studying the Marauders Map. He didn't give them the chance to snap at him. "First of all we can access the Room of Requirements from anywhere we want," he told them. "Second, Malfoy was just here. No one's spent more time in that room than Malfoy."

"Malfoy was here?" Harry asked confused.

"Yes," Hermione nearly squealed. "That's brilliant. He may know where it is. Where is he, Ron?"

"A couple of floors down," Ron replied, grabbing Hermione's arm. This time it was Harry rushing after them.

* * *

><p>The streets had taught John several useful lessons, including how to go un-noticed. It wasn't that the Order and Death Eaters didn't see him, but that neither saw the threat. They were too busy fighting to look long enough to recognize him as Pyro, or as being on one side or another. So he weaved and ducked carefully through the flying spells and behind any hiding places or shadows immediately convenient. John thought he saw a small army of suits of armor.<p>

He didn't know whether he still needed his cover, only making things up as he went along. The best of way of not blowing his cover while also not killing people from the side he was actually on was to not do anything. At least not anything too noticeable, he thought, as he turned a Death Eater's incendio against him. Idiot.

Really it was quite amazing how much fire was created in destruction. John used it to his advantage as he put up a wall of fire between two Death Eaters about to corner one of the students. So he continued that way, mostly staying out of the way and inconspicuously ruining a few Death Eaters' days. He ducked into the castle, not looking down as he stepped over a body. He spotted the Hogwarts' crested robes despite himself.

As he passed the Great Hall, his eyes landed on Mr. and Mrs. Weasley who were working ridiculously well in tandem. They didn't need his help. But he had looked too long, he discovered as a curse skinned his arm, creating a shallow gash across the Dark Mark. John spun out of the way, flicking his lighter open. The fire was in his hands before he could even think about it. His eyes landed on the attacking Order member, some woman he didn't recognize. She aimed another curse at him but he ducked behind a wall. The spell hit the wall, shattering a bit of stone. He pushed the fire out of his hand and, as if following a path of gasoline, he sent it rushing after her. John barely held himself back, giving her time to jump out of the way. He let the fire grow before ducking out from behind his hiding place and moving down the hall. His attacker wouldn't be able to see him through the flame.

As the shouts grew quieter, John realized that he had moved himself away from the action. He wasn't sure if that was a bad thing. It certainly solved his problems. But he wasn't a coward. He didn't use his position as spy to hide away and do nothing. He wasn't Snape. John was going to turn back when he caught a quick glimpse of a group of Death Eaters running along the next hall. John didn't think: he followed behind them. As he followed them, the sounds of shouts and struggle grew again. John saw as the Death Eaters turned around the corner.

He wasn't far behind. The Death Eaters surprised a group fending Death Eaters off on the other side of it. They seemed to be protecting a bridge. Did he blow his cover in front of dozens of Death Eaters or let a small group of DA/Order members die? He made his decision as his eyes landed on an Order member: Remus.

With a flick of his lighter, the fire was in his hands and flying through the air. It swallowed up the first group of Death Eaters. Remus whirled around, wand ready. His eyes landed on John and hesitated for a moment. It was just long enough. John pushed the flame past him and onto the bridge. He let it go and watched as the fire ate up both the bridge and the Death Eaters on it. He pulled the fire back.

Remus, Tonks, and a few vaguely familiar students were staring at him. "We were trying to save that bridge," Tonks said lightly.

John's eyes flashed over her. "Aren't you supposed to be pregnant?" he asked.

"Aren't you supposed to be evil?" Tonks returned. John's eyes went back to Remus who was still staring. He hadn't lowered his wand but he didn't seem prepared to attack either.

"About that…" one of the students said sheepishly. He had brown hair and a black eye. "Harry told us not to tell you, but I think Pyro blew his own cover."

"Cover?" Remus repeated calmly.

"Spy," John replied in the same tone of voice.

"He saved Luna and I," the black boy added. Now he realized where he recognized him, and the blonde girl too. Malfoy Manor.

Remus lowered his wand but didn't say anything. John didn't know what to say or do, but when Remus rushed at him, he reacted instinctively, taking a defensive step back and pulling a flame to him. Remus stopped suddenly, holding his hands up.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Remus told him. John relaxed and Remus…hugged him. "Thank Merlin. You're…"

"Not evil," John suggested as he stood there awkwardly for a moment before pushing away. That had felt…weird. "We'll talk about the why and how after we finish this thing, alright? Hey, we'll even throw in your lack of faith in me for fun. But for now let's fight."

"Harry said you might need your cover," the brown-haired boy said.

"I think I can do more damage setting people on fire," John told him, glancing at Remus. Harry wasn't here: that left Remus in charge. And John trusted Remus enough to let that matter, even if the same couldn't be said the other way around.

Remus nodded even as his wife spoke up: "You're not wrong."

They moved back towards the main fight. John lagged behind, pulling the kid he didn't recognize back with him. "You've seen Harry?" he asked.

The boy nodded. "Yeah. I helped get him into the castle."

"He say what he's doing?" John asked again.

The kid bit his lip, seemingly wondering whether he should answer. "He has to do something in the castle," he finally said.

John let out a breath of relief. "He's going for it then," he said more to himself. When he looked back at the kid, he was staring. John raised his eyebrows.

"It's just…." The kid trailed off, eying those in front of him. "You two are really…you mean a lot to each other."

John rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't be here if we didn't. Now, butt out and let's get to work."

* * *

><p>Harry looked around the Room of Requirements, now filled almost to the brim with things people either lost or were looking to hide.<p>

"So we're just randomly searching for a tiara," Ron said doubtfully.

"Malfoy just said he thinks he's seen it," Hermione responded, turning to Malfoy who was looking around. "Right?"

"I said I've seen it," he told her, taking a few steps to his left. "But I didn't say I remember where it was." Ron and Malfoy then proceeded to bicker, but Harry tuned them out.

He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a breath. His scar twinged. It was close, but where? Harry didn't think, just took a step towards a random row. "You two stop," Harry snapped towards Ron and Malfoy. "We'll split up and look for the damn thing. Ron, you're with Hermione. Malfoy with me."

Ron sent him a look. "Mate, you've gotten cranky since I've left."

"He's under a lot of pressure, Ron," Hermione scolded, pulling her off with him.

Harry continued in the direction he was going, leaving Malfoy to follow after him. "You have really terrible choice of company," Malfoy informed him. Harry was going to snap back at him to pay attention but noticed that Malfoy's eyes were busy at work, scouting through the mess. He turned back to his own task.

"Any of this look familiar?" Harry asked as he turned a corner.

"It all looks familiar. I practically lived here last year," Malfoy responded scornfully. "But as I told you, I don't think I can help you. I don't know where the thing is."

Harry didn't want a repeat of the earlier argument, just hoping that something would spark Malfoy's memory. He paused. He couldn't explain it but he had felt something. "What are you doing?" Malfoy asked, looking back at him from where he had continued on.

Harry didn't answer, just stood perfectly still. He turned his head, his eyes attracted to a point on the far wall. By now, Harry knew not to doubt his instincts and headed towards the far wall. Malfoy didn't say anything, only following behind him.

They were halfway down the aisle when Harry heard a shout. "Potter, get down!" Malfoy yelled. Harry didn't need to be told twice. He ducked, grabbing Malfoy's arm and dragging him behind a cabinet. The spell barely missed.

"Death Eaters!" he shouted, hoping Ron and Hermione hadn't been caught off guard. Beside him, Malfoy looked like a deer caught in headlights. "Malfoy, I know you can fight. It's time to grow a set."

Malfoy glared, but Harry ignored him, instead listening to the Death Eaters. "Are you hiding Potter?" the voice growled.

"Greyback," Malfoy hissed to him. Harry swallowed. Great a mad man.

"Come out and we won't hurt your friends," Greyback continued.

"Oh, I plan on coming out," Harry shouted over his shoulder. "It's not going to help your cause though."

"We'll see about that," Greyback replied. Harry spotted movement out of the corner of his eye.

"Protego!" he shouted as a spell rushed towards him. Another Death Eater had snuck around the other corner.

"Stupefy!" Malfoy added, aiming over Harry's shoulder.

Harry looked at him. "Cover my back," he told him. He took a breath as Malfoy stared at him. "God knows why, but I'm trusting you here. Don't chicken out."

Malfoy sneered. "I can handle a couple of low level werewolves."

So they were all werewolves. Good to know. With one last acknowledging glance to Malfoy, Harry dove out from behind the cabinet, shooting a spell towards where he had heard Greyback's voice. He didn't wait to check if it landed, sliding to his feet and squaring off towards the deranged werewolf. Three others were flanking him. But then Ron and Hermione were there.

Hermione made a slashing motion with her arm and a scraggly Death Eater let out a pained hiss. "See to them," Greyback growled to his followers without glancing back. His eyes were fixed on Harry but that was okay because Harry was staring right back.

"Malfoy, go help Ron and Hermione," Harry ordered. They were outnumbered. With Malfoy's help, they would be able to handle it though.

"Pot—"

"Just go," Harry snapped. Greyback was busy eying him, taking in his prey before striking. He was waiting for Harry to make the first move.

"Stupefy!" Harry shouted. Greyback easily got out of the way. He was quick. Almost just as quickly, Greyback sent out his own spell. But spellwork wasn't his strength. He would try to get as close to Harry as possible. Harry couldn't let that happen. There was no way he could physically overpower a man that size, let alone a werewolf. He could hear Ron, Hermione, and Malfoy calling out spells a few rows over. Good, Malfoy had listened to him.

"Impedimenta," Harry called as Greyback went to duck behind a stack of knick knacks. He needed to see him. It was as if Greyback had run into a wall but he managed to stay on his feet. Harry raised his wand again, but he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He dove to the ground as a red beam of light hit where he had just been. Apparently Greyback had brought five, not four others with him.

Harry didn't have a chance to get to his feet. "Protego!" he shouted from his back as another curse sped towards him. "Expelliarmus!" The wand flew out of his opponents hand even as the Death Eater flew across the room from the force of his spell. He hit his head hard on a nearby wall.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed him by the hair and hauled him to his feet. The distraction was all Greyback had needed to sneak up on him. Greyback held him firmly in place, tearing the wand out of Harry's hand. The werewolf took a long whiff of his hair. That wasn't going to happen. Harry rammed his head back into Greyback's nose. A sharp pain traveled through his skull even as he heard the sound of Greyback's nose breaking.

Harry attempted to spin out of his grasp. He hissed as Greyback's long nails scraped against his arm, bringing up blood. Greyback lunged for him, pinning him down. For a moment, Harry thought he would surely be bitten but the werewolf instead slashed at Harry's chest. He let out a pained gasp. There was no way he was going to let this creature get the best of him. He felt anger surge through him.

"Get off!" he growled and suddenly Greyback was flying through the air and into a stack of books. Harry jumped to his feet, ignoring the blood.

Harry stood over a groaning Greyback. "Petrificus Totalus," he muttered. Greyback went rigid. Snarling, Harry kicked the werewolf in the ribs. He hoped it hurt.

Glancing down at his tattered button down, he shed it, throwing it absentmindedly on the ground. The shouts had stopped but Harry headed to where he thought the fighting had been. When he rounded the corner, he spotted Ron, Hermione, and Malfoy standing over three unconscious Death Eaters. Ron was staring at Malfoy.

"What did I miss?" Harry asked, wincing as he pulled his sleeve back down over his forearm.

"He saved my life," Ron said at a loss.

"Don't get used to it," Malfoy muttered, but he seemed a bit distracted.

"What is it?" Harry asked, eyebrows furrowing. Malfoy stood there silently for a moment, a look of intense concentration on his face. That was new.

"The Hor—diadem?" Hermione asked, giving Malfoy her complete attention, hope shining on her face.

"This way," Malfoy announced, face lighting up. It wasn't a bad look for him, his face looked less pointy. Harry hurried behind him without hesitation. He thought he felt something drawing him again. They were headed in the right direction. It grew stronger.

Malfoy stopped. "Somewhere here," he told Harry. He started shifting things around. Ron, Hermione, and Harry joined him. It was close. So close. Harry looked up.

"There," he said. The diadem lay above their heads, on top of a cabinet. "Ron, the fang." Ron pulled it out, handing it over to Harry. Holding it in one hand, Harry reached for the diadem with the other. It was too high. He found some footing on a pile of random things. His hand closed around the diadem as the pile gave out. A pair of hands steadied him as he stumbled.

"Thanks," he muttered to Malfoy who had quickly stepped back. Harry didn't take time to study the diadem, only briefly taking in the glittering jewels. "Hermione," he called. "I think it's your turn."

Hermione hesitated before reaching out and taking the fang from him. Harry placed the diadem on a nearby desk. With one more glance at Harry, Hermione drove the fang down. For the second time that day, a surge of magic rushed through them, knocking a few items to the ground, the wail hitting them to their bones. Harry thought he was going to be sick, his scar burning as if on fire.

Malfoy gaped. "Th-that," he stuttered. "That was a Horcrux. The Dark Lord had a bloody Horcrux."

Harry shook his head. "Try six."

"How many more?" Malfoy asked, face losing all color. It was his turn to look as if he was going to be sick.

"One," Hermione answered.

"But that's not your problem," Harry told Malfoy. "Go find your mother."

"But—"

"Malfoy, we're going to need all the healers we can get," Hermione told him.

"You're covered in blood," Malfoy eyed Harry.

"I'm good. Go," Harry rolled his eyes. Malfoy looked at him one last time before leaving them.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron looked at each other for a moment. "Now what?" Ron asked.

"Nagini," Harry said. But how would he get to her? They headed towards the exit, passing the still petrified Greyback as they went. Harry paused.

"What is it?" Ron asked.

"My shirt's gone," Harry said, looking around for a moment. "Weird."

* * *

><p>In such a chaotic battle, John couldn't do a lot of damage at once. He found himself taking out Death Eaters one by one in order not to hit any students or Order members. A couple of Order members had turned to attack him but people quickly caught on as more and more Death Eaters were frying.<p>

But John wasn't so lucky this time. Though he dodged, the spell still hit. He hissed as what felt like shards of glass nicked the skin on his face and tore through his clothes. It stung but it wasn't too bad. Luckily, he hadn't gotten the worst of it.

Remus took out the offending Death Eater before calling out to the boy that had spoken up for John earlier. "Neville, cover John."

The kid nodded before coming up to John where he was kneeling behind a wall recovering. "I'll cover you if you cover me," Neville offered.

"Your friends with Harry, right?" John asked.

"Yeah," Neville responded curiously.

"Then I'll try," John told him. He peaked out from the wall. The battle was going strong. "Ready?"

Neville took a breath. "Ready."

Together, they jumped out from behind the wall. John rushed to Remus's side and joined the fray. He made sure to keep an eye on Neville, his new partner doing the same. But Remus was his first priority. He couldn't help it. Remus actually meant something to him.

A spell flew over his shoulder and a Death Eater fell behind him. John didn't have time to thank Neville. A couple of Death Eaters were cornering a few students in a hall off to the side. John recognized Bellatrix. He ducked a curse and took off towards the hallway.

"Wha—" Neville started as John breezed past him but soon he wasn't too far behind. They got there just as Bellatrix and two others had disarmed the fighting students.

"Blood traitors," one of them growled at the students. John noticed the Slytherin crest on the three students' robes.

John pushed a stream of fire at the speaking Death Eater, letting him burn. His friend immediately tried to put the fire out but Bellatrix had whirled around. "Pyro," she said, her eyes going wide. Her eyes traveled to Neville beside him. John saw the rage fill her eyes as she turned back to him. "Traitor!" she roared. "Crucio!"

John wasn't fast enough. The spell hit. It was a pain he could never get used to. It seared through his body, the world going black for a brief moment. But then it was over.

Neville had engaged Bellatrix in a duel. He was fighting furiously, rage in his own eyes. This was apparently personal. The Death Eater John had attacked, meanwhile, had recovered, and he and his friend had two students in front of them like shields. The other lay at their feet. Probably dead.

John couldn't attack, not when they were using kids as shields. He hesitated, trying to form a plan. Flicking his lighter, he called the flame to him before releasing it, directing it at the Death Eaters on either side, hoping that they would let the students go to protect themselves. Obviously they had never played chicken. One of the Death Eaters dropped the student, conjuring a stream of water from his wand and aiming it at the ongoing fire. John put more force into the fire. No water was going to put out his fire.

His fire was pushing the water back when Neville's voice called out to him. "Get dow—" His voice suddenly stopped. John briefly hoped that he had only been knocked out. He didn't have time to dodge, not even knowing where the danger was coming from. But he was quickly knocked to the ground.

"Stay down!" Remus shouted, rolling off of John and viciously slashing his wand at Bellatrix who had apparently finished with Neville. John saw who had attacked him. The other Death Eater. John let out a stream of fire but the Death Eater was ready for him. He used the same spell as the other. John stood, almost physically pushing the fire through the water. He stopped, pulling his arms back and pushing again. The water practically evaporated in front of his eyes and the fire caught the Death Eater's robes. The man went up in flames.

John turned to the sounds of fighting behind him. Bellatrix and Remus were in an all out duel, going spell for spell. Remus was good, but he was no Harry. Bellatrix and he were too evenly matched for comfort. John moved to help.

"Expelliarmus!" He had forgotten that he hadn't finished off the other Death Eater.

The spell hit him dead on. It didn't disarm him. A lighter wasn't a wand. But the spell nevertheless brought him to his knees. John paused as if he had lost his lighter. After all, he didn't have to start a new fire, the other Death Eater was still burning. He didn't look, not wanting to alert the Death Eater. Using only his sense of the flame, he sent it hurtling towards the Death Eater walking towards him. His attacker screamed as he burned.

John got up, turning to help Remus again, only to see Bellatrix disarm him. Remus fell to his knees. John grasped for the fire, but he was tired. His control was shaky.

"Avada Kedavra!" Bellatrix shouted.

"No!" John shouted as the spell hit Remus full on. Remus crumpled to the ground and John leaped to his feet, rushing to his side.

Bellatrix was laughing. "Did you care for the werewolf, Pyro?" Her voiced shrieked with laughter. John turned his head, face set in anger. "I will teach you to use me," she said, eyes narrowing on him.

"You want to hurt me?" John asked, standing. "Go ahead. Make your move." Bellatrix hesitated. John's body shook with rage but he smirked anyway. "What is that? You too attached to me?" He would make her burn. "I SAID MAKE YOUR MOVE!"

Bellatrix raised her wand but she hesitated too long. She was engulfed in flame, not even having time to scream. For the first time, he watched as his flame glowed blue.

John turned away from her burnt body, kneeling beside Remus again. His eyes stared unseeingly at the ceiling. John didn't like this feeling in his stomach. He hadn't expected it. It felt both empty and as if it was going to explode at the same time.

"Pyro," Neville said, voice cracking as he approached. Apparently he had only been knocked out. He laid a hand on John's shoulder but John shook it off. So, instead, Neville knelt on the other side of Remus. He ran a hand over Remus's eyes. When he was finished, Remus's eyes no longer stared unseeingly at the ceiling, now closed forever.

A.N. **Please read! **So this story is almost over (3-4 chapters left) but I'm not ready to give up the AU I created. This is my problem, I get attached. Yet, I don't know what kind of **sequel** to write. Perhaps people can **weigh in**:

1. Post-war story focusing on Harry's continuing role as Heir of Gyffindor and his attempts at his own recovery.

2. Another AU though with the same characterizations. Major difference: John's not Voldemort's son. This idea's more thought out. What if the events of X2 and X3 already played out by the time of the 7th book? Here's the proposed plot: After his defeat in X3, Magneto must rebuild his Brotherhood. However, mutant-human conditions are improving in America so he turns his eyes abroad. Magneto gets news that a potentially powerful mutant lives on Privet Drive. He takes Pyro and Mystique with him, posing as a family, in his search for this powerful mutant in hopes of not only recruiting in the UK but also of securing the loyalty of his existing lieutenants. After their mutual betrayal, Magneto and Mystique seemed to have repaired their working relationship, but Magneto questions just how loyal Pyro is to the cause as he has become increasingly independent, especially as he spends more time with their suspected mutant (and neighbor), Harry Potter, whose name seems awfully familiar. Harry, meanwhile, must come to terms with the death of Albus Dumbledore and his coming mission. He comes to fully understand that this war could mean his death. Could his last summer with the Dursleys be his last chance to live as Harry, not Harry Potter?

3. Any other story suggestions?


	45. Bloodshed Part II

_Mutant Son_

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling's and Marvel's. Underlined words taken from DH pg 659-660 American version.

**Chapter 45: Bloodshed Part II**

"I can't get in," Harry said, voice sharp in frustration.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, as Ron helped him to his feet.

"He's blocking me out," Harry explained, kicking the wall.

"You mean he wised up?" Ron asked, his face revealing his own frustration. "What do we do now?"

Harry didn't know what to say. They needed Nagini, the last Horcrux, but Harry had no idea where the snake was and Voldemort had finally begun to block him out. "We're going to have to wait for him to make his move," Harry realized. "He won't leave the snake alone, not now that he knows that we're gunning for her. When he comes to finish me off, you guys will have to get Nagini."

Hermione's face fell. "But…that's cutting it close. What if…" she trailed off.

"We don't kill it in time," Ron finished for her.

Harry looked between his two friends. "You won't fail," he told them. "You've never failed me." Harry finally let himself hear the sounds of battle he had been ignoring in order to concentrate on the Horcruxes. "I think it's time we join the fight."

"About damn time," Ron said forcefully. It was after all, all they could do.

It was as if everyone became aware of Harry's presence at once as they flew through the Great Hall and out of the castle where the battle was most intensely being waged. He heard his name being passed around by both sides, some jubilant, some worried: the whole range of emotions seemed to come through in his name.

"Go help Fred and George," Harry ordered his two friends as he noticed that Fred and George were struggling with a combination of Death Eaters and acromantulas. To their credit, they didn't argue, recognizing that the twins were in over their heads. Harry's eyes landed on a group of giants. Even as he looked, an Order member was thrown across the grounds.

Just in time, he slid between the Order member (he didn't have time to check who it was) and the approaching giant. He had done this before. It wasn't impossible, not for him.

Taking a large breath, he shouted, "Stupefy!" He pushed everything he had into it. It didn't quite knock the giant out but it blasted it to the ground. That wasn't good enough. The giant was larger than the one from London Bridge.

His eyes landed on a nearby group of three DA members looking to join their next fight. "DA!" he shouted. Ernie, Hannah, and Justin turned to him. "Stun on three." He pointed his wand at the giant and they followed suit. The giant was attempting to get to its feet. "1…2…3!" And in unison they cast their stunners. As the giant went down, the ground shook.

There was no time to celebrate. Ernie, Hannah, and Justin turned to a group of approaching Death Eaters even as Harry ducked a spell flying towards his head. He turned to find a masked Death Eater.

"Protego!" He rolled past his shield and, without getting to his feet, he slashed his wand in the direction of the Death Eater, casting a silent stunner.

Death Eater after Death Eater, Harry took them down. He quickly lost track of Ron and Hermione, but he didn't have time to worry. A blasting curse threw debris into Harry's face and he barely managed to shield himself, wood and stone cutting into his face and arms. The offending Death Eater made the mistake of laughing at him. That was all the time Harry needed to bring the idiot to his knees. Another acromantula, meanwhile, scuttled quickly towards him. He hadn't noticed it until it was nearly on him. Harry didn't think, just reacted, wincing as his spell decapitated the thing. The monster's blood splattered across his shirt. .

More giants were emerging from the direction of the Forbidden Forest. Harry saw Hagrid and Grawp take one down, but three more giants had gotten past them, trampling the Death Eaters and Order members in their way. Harry sprinted. Half-way, he saw fire out of the corner of his eye. He didn't stop even as he spotted John.

"John!" he shouted. It wasn't the time to be relieved. John's eyes quickly met his, having thrown a student out of the way of his own streaming fire. It was soon put out by a nearby Death Eater.

He was too far away for Harry to tell him his plan, but Harry knew John would catch on quickly. Waving his wand, a wall of fire erupted towards the approaching giants. John's eyes didn't leave the fire as he took control of the fiendfyre. Good luck to any Death Eater who tried to put that fire out now. Harry didn't stay to watch, jumping back into battle.

The air fell cold and sharp. In horror, Harry turned his head. Luna, Hermione, Ron, and Seamus were casting their patronuses at the approaching dementors. There were more than Harry had ever seen before and the hare, otter, terrier, and fox barely pushed the first wave back. Harry could hear the screams coming from his own head.

"_Lily, take Harry—_"

"_No, not Harry_—"

"_Sirius_!"

Somehow Hermione's shouts reached him. "Harry!"

The voices in his head were not dying down but Harry had dealt with a psychotic Dark Lord in his head, he could force this back. "Expecto Patronum!"

His voice wasn't the only to ring out. His bright and corporeal stag was joined by the silver goat released by Aberforth who stood only feet next to him. Together, the stag and goat joined the other patronuses, pushing the dementors back.

"Go!" Aberforth told them all. "I can handle it from here."

Harry nodded before getting lost in the battle again, ignoring as people he recognized fell, not knowing how many Death Eaters and creatures he himself was taking down. He was in motion, magic flowing through him naturally, every minute happy that Voldemort had not shown his face.

As if summoned, Voldemort's voice rang out. The trees and castle itself seemed to cast his echo through the grounds. Harry couldn't help it. He stopped along with the other fighters as if Voldemort had cast a spell over them all.

Harry realized that he was talking to Hogwarts and to all the surrounding area, that the residents of Hogsmeade, and all those still fighting in the castle would hear him as clearly as if he stood beside them, his breath on the back of their necks, a deathblow away.

"You have fought," said the high cold voice, "valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery.

"Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste.

"Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat immediately.

"You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured.

"I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman, and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour."

Voldemort's forces quickly backed away at their master's call, disappearing into the Forbidden Forest. The Order and students watched them retreat. Glancing around, Harry's eyes landed on Ron and Hermione.

He felt eyes boring into him. "Gather the injured," his voice rang out into the silence. "Then the dead." His voice sounded harsh, callous to his ears. Ron and Hermione quickly hurried to his side.

Harry helped get the injured and then dead into the Great Hall. Madame Pomfrey, Mrs. Malfoy, and Malfoy were running around treating the injured. Where was Remus? Tonks? They could perform the spells as well. Harry quickly found the red-haired Weasleys in the crowd, all gathered together, surrounding something, someone. Harry lost his breath even as Ron ran to his family, pushing his way in.

"Fred," Ron said, sounding completely lost.

Harry closed his eyes for a few seconds. This was his fault. Voldemort was right. He had let his friends die for him. But what choice did he have? Without the Horcruxes gone, he stood no chance at Voldemort. But after…after he should've gone for him. He shouldn't have waited for Voldemort to come to him.

When Harry opened his eyes, Hermione's eyes were tearing and her hands covered her mouth. "Go to him," he told her even as he turned away. He couldn't do this, not now. Harry searched for more familiar faces. Colin Creevey, Lavender Brown…dead. Ernie, Hannah, and Justin…alive. On and on he took the death toll in and imprinted the faces of survivors in his mind. Finally, across the hall Harry found the face he most wanted to see: John who sat against the wall near two bodies. Harry couldn't tell who. Did he go to him?

He jumped as Neville's hand came down on his shoulder. "Don't do that," he growled. "I could've attacked you."

"You didn't hear me say your name?" Neville asked. He was limping. "I guess, not." Neville's eyes traveled towards John. "He did great. Saved my life. I wish people would stop glaring at him."

Neville was right. People were glaring in John's direction. Didn't they get that John was on their side?

"Harry," Neville said again, drawing Harry's attention to him. "He…it's Professor Lupin."

"What about Remus?" Harry asked, body going still. He held his breath as if to not interrupt Neville's response.

"He saved Pyro and Pyro tried to help him but he couldn't act fast enough. Bellatrix…sh-she killed Professor Lupin. Tonks went down, too."

"Is she okay?" Harry asked, trying not to think about what this all meant for little Teddy Lupin. He tried not to let his own grief set in.

"She's dead."

Harry turned away, studying the hall. People were bleeding, crying, faces lost. Had they given up hope even after fighting so hard? Now that they've seen what they had lost?

Harry propelled himself onto a nearby bench. "Everyone, please listen." Nothing. "Everyone listen!" he shouted. The hall fell silent as, almost as one, the survivors turned to him. "Voldemort's right. You've been brave and you've fought valiantly. No one's asking you to risk anymore. Enough has been lost.

"But those of you who don't know how to go down without a fight," his eyes landed on his fellow Gryffindors, the Weasleys, and a few others he had gotten to know through the Order and DA, "the resistance still stands. I, for one, will not give up, not as long as I'm still breathing. No matter if I 'give' myself up or not, Voldemort is still coming. Maybe not today, but tomorrow or the next day. He does not forgive and he certainly does not forget.

"And even if he did, could _you_ forget? Could you forget your friends and family? Those who were killed here today or within the last few years. Could you forget the fear? The torture? Could you forget that everyday muggleborns are imprisoned and muggle families are killed? You may think the muggles have nothing to do with you. Maybe they don't. But they're human just like us and their children are just like ours. Voldemort tried to kill me sixteen years ago and I was only a baby. He didn't blink. He killed my parents, my friends." He gestured towards the hall in general, at the people he had lost. "If you can forget then forget. I'm not asking you to fight, just telling you that there is still a fight to be fought. There is no shame in leaving now, but I won't let my parents, Dumbledore, my loved ones die in vain. I won't let those who have sacrificed themselves die in vain. We have a half hour to decide."

With that, Harry jumped off the bench. He felt sort of numb, not believing for himself that he had just given that speech. The silence rung out throughout the hall.

"I'm not giving up," Neville said from next to him, loud enough for the hall to hear.

"Me neither," Seamus added.

"Of course not," Luna said, as if the thought of giving up was preposterous.

There were nods across the room, some seemed reluctant but slowly they seemed to gain their courage. Seamus turned to Harry. "And you…don't even think about giving yourself up. We need you Mr. Chosen One."

Harry didn't smile, eyes traveling to the spot John had been sitting in. He had promised John that he wouldn't but John was nowhere to be seen. "You don't need me," Harry told Seamus and Neville. "No matter what you keep fighting." Seamus only nodded.

"Potter."

Harry turned to see McGonagall. "Yeah?"

Her eyes seemed to be a bit misty. Was that pride? "The portraits outside the hall have told me that Phinneas Black wants to see you."

Harry's eyebrows furrowed before he remembered the old headmaster portrait. "Can I access the headmaster's office?"

"I believe with no acting head the castle will recognize a founder's heir. So the legends go," she replied. "But if you need me I can bring you to—"

"No," Harry shook his head, glancing over towards the Weasleys who were immersed in their grief. "You stay here. Someone needs to lead."

With that Harry took off, brushing past people who nodded at him as he exited. He rushed to the headmaster's office. They didn't have much time. When he got to the office, nothing blocked his way as he jogged up the spiral staircase and into the actual office.

The office was just as Dumbledore left it which was morbid considering it had recently belonged to the man who killed him. Phinneas Black was not in his portrait when Harry arrived and the other headmasters and headmistresses seemed to be in a deep sleep. Dumbledore's portrait was not there. Was this all a waste of time? Harry's eyes landed on the pensieve then a vial on the headmaster's desk. As he approached, he noticed a sheet of parchment.

Holding the vial in one hand, Harry unfolded the parchment.

_Potter,_

_This vial contains vital information, memories which you must view. If you doubt whether you should trust me, know that I have known Pyro to be your spy since the beginning and it was I who suggested he ask Bellatrix about the object in her vault._

_Severus Snape_

So Dumbledore had been right: Snape was one their side, biding his time. While it could have still been some complicated form of trickery, Harry doubted it. Things added up. Glancing at the vial, Harry opened it and poured its contents into the swirling liquid in the pensieve.

* * *

><p>The headmaster's office had sealed itself and no amount of guessing passwords would get Hermione and Ron in.<p>

"I guess we wait, eh?" Ron asked, his voice sounding a bit raw. His eyes were still red but he was coping, at least for the moment. Ron knew he still needed to fight. That made Hermione think about Harry's impromptu speech. He had certainly rekindled the fire that had been driving the Order and DA and what Hermione had briefly thought to have gone out.

Hermione sighed as they sat on the landing. Ron put an arm around her. They didn't speak, only appreciating the silence, both lost in their own thoughts. But soon, Harry emerged from the hidden staircase. He paused when he spotted them. Something had happened.

Harry brushed past them. "Oy, where are you going?" Ron asked, leaping to his feet. Hermione followed.

"The Forbidden Forest," Harry told them.

"Wait, why?" Ron tried to stop him, taken back when Harry actually spun around to face them.

"I need to die," he told them. "He has to kill me."

Ron opened his mouth but Hermione beat him to it. "You're a Horcrux."

Harry nodded, eyes on his shoes. When he looked up his eyes were blazing. "It was an accident. He didn't mean to do it. But that's why I can feel the other Horcruxes, why I can get into his mind, why my scar hurts when he's around. And he can't be killed unless I'm dead. Dumbledore knew it all along. He intended that I finish my mission even if that meant that mission was finishing myself off, even if by proxy. Voldemort has to be the one to do it."

Hermione hated to hear it said out loud but she had had her suspicions for a while now. Ron, meanwhile, seemed to be in shock. "But…" he trailed off. "Harry…"

"I need to do this, Ron," Harry met his eyes. "Voldemort needs to die. Once I'm dead there's only Nagini left and then Voldemort himself."

"How are we supposed to kill Voldemort?" Hermione asked quietly. "You're the only one who ever stood a chance."

Harry shook his head. "No. Together you all stand a chance. He's not invincible. If Dumbledore can die than so can Voldemort."

"You can't expect us to just let you walk to your death," Ron argued but even Hermione saw there wasn't much fight in him. They had dedicated themselves to this war. It had to be won, even if it meant losing Harry. No matter how much it hurt her. She had never felt this much pain, even when Ron was stuck in the castle. She knew she would see Ron again but Harry…her best friend was going to die.

"I do," Harry told him. "We all have to do what's necessary. You recognized that when I had John torture and kill Pettigrew. Let me do this, Ron. My whole life's been leading up to this."

"Your death?" Ron asked, eyes sad. "Harry, I've lost two brothers, don't make me lose you too."

Harry seemed to struggle, unable to find the words. As for Hermione, she was overcome by her tears, launching herself at Harry. "I don't—Harry, I don't want you to die."

Harry hugged her for a moment before pushing her away. "But you know I have to." He turned to Ron. "Both of you." Ron stared at the ground but didn't argue.

"We won't fail," Ron told him as he looked up, his eyes gaining back some fire.

Harry gave him a small smile. "I know you won't." He looked at them for a few moments, opening his mouth a few times. Finally, he seemed able to speak. "Help take care of Teddy, won't you? He's…no one should have to lose their parents so young." Hermione nodded, a sob escaping her. "And John…tell him…tell him I'm sorry that I couldn't keep my promise."

Hermione almost lost it completely but she somehow regained control of herself. She hadn't even thought about John. This…everything was so unfair. Why Harry? She never hated Voldemort more than she did now.

Nodding one more time, Harry turned to leave but Hermione stopped him. "Harry, wait!" she rushed to him.

"We don't have time," Harry tried but he paused anyway.

Hermione dug into her pocket, hand closing around warm metal. She handed it to Harry. "John's lighter. I knew you would regret tossing it. I didn't think…I think you should have it, especially now."

Harry looked down at the lighter before slipping it into his own pocket. "Thanks," he mumbled. For a moment it seemed as if Harry couldn't tear his eyes from them. Hermione knew they wouldn't get a good-bye from him, no heartfelt words. Harry wouldn't know what to say.

Then he left. Ron and Hermione watched him go, Ron's arm wrapped tightly around her. She wiped her tears away as Harry disappeared around a corner. "Let's go," Ron said softly. "We need to be ready."

When they got back to the Great Hall, people turned to look at them, perhaps expecting to see Harry. They turned away when they realized they weren't him. They weren't Harry. How could they possibly do this? Neville, Ginny, and Luna, meanwhile, headed towards them as they spotted the looks on Ron and Hermione's faces.

"Where's Harry?" Ginny asked, looking between them.

Hermione didn't answer. She couldn't let them stop him.

"She asked you a question." John stood behind them and, when she turned, Hermione couldn't meet his eyes. "Hermione," his voice was emotionless. "Where's Harry?"

"He said he's sorry," Hermione told him quietly.

John's eyebrows furrowed in confusion for a moment before his eyes went wide in realization. "No," he glared, turning he rushed out of the Great Hall. Ron and Hermione ran after him even as Ginny, Neville, and Luna watched in confusion.

Ron managed to catch up to him and grab his arm. John nearly flipped him over, pulling out his lighter and calling the fire to him. Ron landed painfully on the floor. "Don't stop me," John growled. "You might be willing to let him sacrifice himself but I won't." Hermione raised her wand. "Don't think I won't hurt you, Hermione."

Ron, meanwhile, was on his feet and edging towards him. Hermione raised her wand, intent on distracting John. They couldn't let John stop Harry. And she certainly wasn't going to let him get himself killed. She owed Harry that.

Then they were all taken by surprise. John hadn't yet built up the fire as a wave of water fell down upon him. It was only because of his surprise that the flame went out. Hermione took her chance, summoning his lighter to her even as Ron came up behind John and grabbed him. John struggled but Ron was stronger and had a good grip on him. Hermione merely glanced at McGonagall as she joined them.

"Let me go," John growled, desperately struggling. He was tiring himself out, the paleness of his face showing that he was already in a weakened state. But despite the exhaustion, John got more frantic. "Let me go! I won't let him die! Please, let me go. Hermione, Ron please."

Hermione's stomach sank and she couldn't breathe. He was begging. Ron struggled to keep hold of him. Somehow John managed to hit Ron in the stomach with his elbow.

"Hermione," Ron breathed out. "Knocking him out or something would be nice."

She gathered her senses as she pulled out her wand. "Stupefy." The spell hit John and he sunk into unconsciousness in Ron's arms. Ron sat him against the wall.

"For a relatively small guy, he's bloody strong," Ron said, clearly out of breath.

"Desperation," McGonagall replied shortly. She turned on the two of them. "Now what did he mean by not letting him die."

"Harry's going to Voldemort," Hermione told her. "He has to."

"Potter doesn't think that will stop him, does he?" McGonagall said, face growing white.

"It's not that," Hermione looked over to Ron who shrugged. "There's magic involved here. Very dark magic. If we are to stand a chance, Harry has to go to him."

"But he'll die," McGonagall said.

Ron and Hermione bowed their heads. "He knows what he's doing," Ron responded, refusing to confirm the inevitable. "As for us, he left us a job to do. We need to finish it."

McGonagall didn't seem to know what to say, instead turning and heading back to the Great Hall. "Then let us, shall we?" she turned back to them, robe billowing out behind her, face set, though she couldn't hide the sadness in her eyes.

Ron and Hermione exchanged glances again before Ron bent to haul John up into his arms. "He's too light," Ron said to her. Hermione glanced John over. He looked terrible, skinnier too. "You know, we're going to have to wake him up eventually."

Hermione nodded. "By that time, Harry…John won't be able to do anything." She refused to say that Harry would be dead.

* * *

><p>It wasn't hard to find them. Voices traveled and Harry could recognize Voldemort's voice anywhere. Not to mention the pain in his scar. It was better than radar. He pushed all thoughts away. He wouldn't be able to do this if he thought about…no thinking. Nevertheless, he felt for the lighter. Harry stood taller before pushing away the brush. A large group of Death Eaters were gathered around Voldemort, Hagrid and Grawp tied up off to the side. Grawp was unconscious, hopefully not dead.<p>

He felt when the Death Eaters' eyes landed on him. "Potter," several voices whispered. Harry approached them slowly and calmly, surely meeting Voldemort's eyes.

"Harry Potter," Voldemort's cold voice rang out. "Come to die."

"Harry, no!" Hagrid shouted. "Run! What are you doing here?" Hagrid struggled against the ropes.

Harry didn't meet his eyes. Quickly, he spotted white blond hair. Lucius Malfoy stood beside Snape but Harry focused in on Mr. Malfoy. "Your wife and son are in the castle healing people while you're killing." Harry didn't know what he hoped to gain by saying that, but he couldn't look at this man when Malfoy and Mrs. Malfoy were risking their lives, going against everything they were ever taught, and say nothing.

"They are traitors," Mr. Malfoy responded, but his eyes seemed unsure.

"Yes, traitors," Voldemort said, calling back Harry's attention. "And they will be dealt with just as my traitorous son will be dealt with. He comes crawling back to you despite your betrayal. Lucius, did you know that Potter has claimed your son as a bedmate?"

Harry snorted. "You're an idiot." Voldemort's red eyes grew redder in anger. "Malfoy was never my 'bedmate' and John didn't come crawling back. He was never on your side." He made sure to meet Voldemort's eyes, to dig his failure in. "How do you think I found out about the bridge, or Bellatrix's vault, that you would be here tonight? How does it feel to be played by a couple of teenagers?"

Harry felt the air pulse with magic, but as quickly as Voldemort's anger came, it faded away. "No matter, you will die tonight. My son will see your dead body and death will not come as quickly to him as it will for you." No, John would never be caught; Harry had to continue thinking that even though he knew that John was bound to get incredibly stupid once he realized what happened.

"Are you ready to join your parents?" Voldemort asked, mouth spreading into a twisted grin.

"I don't fear death," Harry said, refusing to break eye contact.

"Even as your death means your friends' deaths?" Voldemort asked as he began to circle Harry like a lion circling its prey. Nagini followed closely at his feet. He should kill her, right now, but he knew he wouldn't be able to get his wand up fast enough. "You didn't think that I'd show mercy, did you?"

Harry smirked. "You'll be dead before the sun rises. My friends will make sure of it."

"You won't even reach that far," Voldemort hissed out. Hagrid began to struggle more frantically than before. "Good-bye Harry Potter. Avada Kedavra!"

"NO!" Hagrid's voice roared.

The green light rushed towards him just like those dreams he had of his parents' deaths, those memories. The maniacal laugh was the same, too. But Harry didn't think on it any further as the spell hit.

* * *

><p>It was as if the clouds had descended upon a deserted and remarkably clean King's Cross station. Harry looked around. If this was death then Harry was greatly disappointed. He had hoped that he'd see his parents and Sirius. His heart fell as he remembered Remus, too.<p>

He paused as he heard a distant wailing. Slowly he followed the noise. A small figure was curled up under a far bench. When he reached the bench, he kneeled, crawling under the bench to retrieve it. But when he could finally see it, he jumped back in horror. Shriveled and disgusting, a figure the size of a small child wailed sharply from under the bench. Harry was too horrified to help.

"My dear boy," a voice rang out from behind him. Harry whirled around and spotted Albus Dumbledore, looking very much alive. He was in magnificent robes and his blue eyes twinkled. Harry stood. "You brave boy…no you brave man."

"What is that?" Harry asked, nodding at the creature, unsure of how he felt about finally facing Dumbledore.

"A bit of Voldemort's soul. A piece of soul Voldemort himself has destroyed by turning his wand on you."

"So it's dead then," Harry said, looking away from the evil, vile thing. "The seventh Horcrux died with me."

"Not exactly," Dumbledore smiled, eyes shining, perhaps with pride but Harry knew now that he didn't know his mentor as well as he thought.

"I'm sick of secrets and puzzles, sir," Harry sighed. "For once, be straight with me."

"Very well, my boy," Dumbledore said as he sat on a bench. He gestured for Harry to join him. "You are not dead, not as long as you choose to live. Voldemort may have killed a piece of his own soul but he has failed to kill his greatest enemy: you. You see, when he came back he used your blood. Your blood runs in his veins as does your mother's protection. Yes, after that he could touch you without pain but he also further linked himself to you. He keeps you tethered to the world of the living."

Harry stared at him. "He's keeping me alive."

"No," Dumbledore corrected. "You keep yourself alive. Voldemort simply failed to kill you."

"But he killed his own Horcrux," Harry said, grinning despite himself.

"Yes, the seventh Horcrux. The one he didn't know he made," Dumbledore smile as if sharing in on his joke.

"So that means…I can go back, right?" Harry asked, torn.

"If that is what you wish," Dumbledore replied. "Harry you can choose to move on, to get the rest you so earned. Or you can return to the living world. To the battlefield and the horrors you face there."

"I return and I return to finish it," Harry corrected. "It ends and I can finally live without it hanging over my head."

"Yes," Dumbledore looked on Harry fondly. "You can but I simply warn you of the horror you may yet face. I do not know. You have been brave and strong long enough. You deserve a choice."

"I never had a choice," Harry said. "I was forced into this. It was prophesized. You call me brave, but those who chose to fight despite having the option to run away, they're the brave ones."

"Harry, you always had that choice," Dumbledore told him. "Just because it was prophesized, does not mean your destiny has already been written out. You bravely faced this war and performed beyond the call of duty, so to speak. My remarkable boy, you have chosen each and every time you sacrificed your own life for another's, for the war. Besides, prophecy or not, you would not have sat out this war. What is it you said? '_There is no shame in leaving now, but I won't let my parents, Dumbledore, my loved ones die in vain. I won't let those who have sacrificed themselves die in vain._' Those are the words of a warrior, a true hero. You are a greater man and a greater leader than I could ever be."

"But you led the Order of the Phoenix," Harry argued. "You stood up against Voldemort and gave people hope. You found out how to defeat him and did as much as you could before you died." Harry realized that he truly believed this.

"And I allowed you to fight a battle I should have never let you fight," Dumbledore looked at his feet. Any remnants of Harry's anger melted away.

"No," Harry shook his head roughly. "You couldn't have stopped me. You're right: I chose to fight. I couldn't sit it out. And besides, professor, you faced Grindelwald, someone you loved."

"Ah, yes, Gellert," Dumbledore replied sadly. "You have met him, I think? It is true I loved him. And because of the bitterness caused by my sister's illness and mother's death, the bitterness caused by being tied down to a family that I saw as a burden, I helped him on his way to power. I would have stood by his side. And perhaps, worst of all, I failed my family. My sister died and my brother, torn away from me forever."

"But you didn't stand by his side," Harry said softly. He had forgotten his desperate need to know about this, all of this. "You stood against the things he stood for."

"But at a price. It took my sister's death. It was my brother, that brave and great man, to show Gellert's true colors," Dumbledore continued on.

"He's not evil, you know," Harry said softly.

"Yes, they say he showed remorse in recent years," Dumbledore looked doubtful. Perhaps it was easier to let him be evil.

"I don't know about remorse," Harry admitted. "But he did—does—love you. That's clear. Despite loving him, professor, you did what was right."

"Then you forgive me for my youthful transgressions and my later secrecy with you," Dumbledore said, almost hopefully.

"There's nothing to forgive," Harry said, offering a small smile. "Though I may have thought there was before." Harry stood. "I think it's time to go."

"Yes, I believe so." Dumbledore followed suit. "You choose to return."

"It's not really a choice at all," Harry told him. They stood in silence for a few moments.

"Harry," Dumbledore finally said. "I suspect you think we share something in common in the ones we have fallen in love with: that is why you were so angry with me. But St. John is nothing like Gellert. Yes, he is angry and greatly damaged but he has such potential. You are both stronger than either I or Gellert ever were. He needs only to be guided down the right path. "

"I don't think I can do that," Harry said, refusing to meet his eyes. "Too much has happened. Some things can't be forgiven."

"Yes," Dumbledore nodded. "But sometimes, what we can forgive surprises us."

"Good-bye, professor," Harry said sadly, taking his mentor in one last time. All of his anger at this man was gone. Dumbledore had done what was necessary. He may have manipulated things but he had never left Harry without a choice. Dumbledore loved him.

"I will see you," Dumbledore said, smile and twinkle in his eye back in full force, "but not for a long while."

King's Cross seemed to disappear into a great white fog before being overtaken by darkness. Harry realized that he was on the hard, wet ground. He resisted spitting out the mouthful of dirt and grass.

"My lord," Harry heard Snape's voice. "Let me help you to your feet." Apparently only moments had passed. Had the spell knocked Voldemort off his feet? It must have.

"Is he dead?" Voldemort breathed. "Is the boy dead?" The magical backlash must have unnerved him. Harry carefully held his breath, hoping beyond hope that he wouldn't be found out. There were too many to fight.

Harry heard footsteps approach. "No, let me," Snape said sharply. "We do not want to be mistaken."

"Yes, Rodolphus, let Severus do it," Voldemort agreed.

Harry made sure to monitor his breath. Snape, their spy, wouldn't give him away, but the others couldn't be allowed to see him breathing. He squeezed his eyes shut as the approaching footsteps stopped. Snape kneeled next to him. Harry felt his fingers on his pulse point.

Snape stood. "Dead," he announced. "Harry Potter is dead."

Voldemort began to laugh maniacally once again. "Let us share the good news, my friends. Let us show Potter's followers that he has failed."

"And then what?" Mr. Malfoy asked.

"Then we will destroy whatever resistance is left. And Lucius, we _will_ kill all traitors." He paused for a moment and, when he spoke again, his voice was cold as ice. "Do not touch my son. I will deal with him."

"What are we doing with Potter?" a voice asked.

"You. Half-breed," Voldemort snapped at Hagrid. "You shall carry the boy to the castle."

Heavy footsteps approached and Hagrid knelt before him. Sobbing heavily, he picked Harry up and held Harry to him. Harry attempted to keep his body limp. Thankfully, Hagrid's sobs would hide Harry's breathing.

* * *

><p>John came to at once, immediately aware that he had been stunned. His eyes landed on Ron and Hermione who were hovering above him. He moved to take a swing at Ron but found himself unable to move. Petrified then.<p>

"John, it's too late," Hermione told him. "Harry's gone. We need you now. We need to finish what Harry started."

"If we don't, then what was the point?" Ron continued. John glared, hoping that they could see it. It shouldn't have come to this. He felt betrayed. Harry betrayed him. He had promised.

"Don't fight us John," Hermione said. "We already have an enemy to fight. Let's take your father down."

That did it. She knew exactly what to say. His father would die for killing Harry. It didn't matter what happened to John now, as long as his father died. The glare must have fallen from his eyes because Hermione released the spell.

John sat up slowly, turning away from them. He couldn't look at them if he hoped to be able to talk to them without hurting them. "The snake still alive?" John asked.

"Yeah," Ron replied, sounding a little relieved that John was cooperating. But John had pushed aside his emotion, waiting for the right target.

"We have anything to kill it with?"

Ron showed him the basilisk fang. John stared at it. "That's not going to work," John said.

"Why not?" Hermione asked.

"Do you know how close we need to get to the snake to use that? That's impossible," he finally looked to Hermione. "Can you cast fiendfyre?" Hermione shook her head. "You don't have to control it: just cast it."

"I can't," Hermione insisted. John sighed in frustration. He was sure she could do it, she had once before, but he couldn't press her further because a shout reached their ears.

"The Death Eaters!"

Ron, Hermione, and John jumped to their feet as did most of the Great Hall. McGonagall, the Weasleys, Neville, Luna, and a few Order members joined them outside the front doors. Others looked out from behind them, like children peeking out from behind their parents' legs. Pathetic.

The Death Eaters were marching towards them, Voldemort leading the group, Nagini at his side. The giant Hagrid was being herded along with them. He was carrying something. A body. No.

"Harry Potter is dead," Voldemort announced into the silent air. The Death Eaters pushed Hagrid out in front of them as he sobbed over Harry's body. Rage filled John. He felt it pulsing through his veins, hot like fire. He reigned himself in as a few soft screams and sobs traveled behind him.

"You have no hope of winning," Voldemort continued. "Surrender. Those who join us will not be killed."

"You said you would show mercy," McGonagall pointed out.

"Minerva McGonagall, finally out from behind Dumbledore's shadow," Voldemort said, eying her distastefully before dismissing her. That was a mistake. She was one of the few that probably stood a chance against him. "I will show mercy. To those who join me."

"Not going to happen," Neville snapped.

Voldemort laughed, his followers joining in. Only Snape and Lucius were silent. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mrs. Malfoy's white blonde hair push through to the front. Lucius averted his eyes.

John took a step forward, flicking his lighter open. He shook off Hermione. Voldemort only seemed to have eyes for him.

"My son," Voldemort practically sneered. "You vile creature."

"Must be genetic," John let out. He struggled to keep the flame small and close.

"It was foolish to betray me," Voldemort hissed out. "Your death will be painful. Half-breed, show this boy his dead lover." Hagrid sobbed but didn't step forward. "Half-breed, I said—"

But then something impossible happened. Harry rolled out of Hagrid's arms and landed on his feet. He was alive. Harry was alive. John's rage turned into something else, something just as uncomfortable. There was a shocked silence for a moment before the Order and DA cheered and brought their wands up. As Voldemort roared, the Death Eaters went on the defensive, trying to force the Order and DA back.

John didn't care about any of it. Harry had dove behind one of the destroyed walls. Smart. Voldemort hadn't seen where Harry went, having had to bring up a shield. He scanned the crowd, body shaking in rage. John raced to wall, leaping over the debris.

"You're alive," John breathed as his eyes landed on Harry, looking a little worse for wear.

"I promised, didn't I?" Harry replied before his face set in determination. "Listen, I'll distract Voldemort as long as possible. Kill Nagini. Give me a signal."

"We have a basilisk fang. How the fuck are we supposed to kill it with that?" John asked.

Harry didn't answer but his eyes landed on something to John's left. "The sword of Gryffindor. Next to you…the sorting hat." John followed Harry's eyes. The sword of Gyrffindor protruded out of the Sorting Hat which sat randomly against the wall. Harry reached for the sword, examining it briefly, smiling lightly. "Talk about destiny." Harry handed it over to John. "Take it," he ordered.

John nodded as he took the sword. It felt weird in his hands. Then they just looked at each other. Harry's face looked tired, not to mention scratched up. His shirt was soaked in blood.

"I have to go," Harry finally said, breathlessly.

Harry turned but John grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him back. He pulled Harry into a quick kiss, relieved to feel Harry kiss back. "I love you," John told him.

"Me, too," Harry breathed. "I mean, I love you." And with that, Harry stood, jumping on the debris. "Hey, Tom, over here!" Harry took off, dodging into the castle. Voldemort followed, steps behind him. John never thought he'd see his father run.

John stood, too, his eyes just landing on Nagini who disappeared into the castle. He sprinted after her, the sword in his hands. By the time he got there, however, he couldn't see where the snake had gone.

John heard shouts coming from above him. But all the fighting was in the Great Hall and outside the doors. He rushed up the stairs, just in time to see Nagini lunge at Hermione. Ron blasted the snake away from her. John spotted Neville rushing to help them.

"Neville!" he shouted just before the boy passed him. He tossed the sword to Neville. "You get near the snake, you kill it." John, Hermione, and Ron could distract it as Neville moved in for the kill. She hadn't seen Neville yet.

Flicking his lighter open, he lit Nagini on fire but she wouldn't burn, only dodging through the flame. He tried again with the same result. Ron gripped the fang tight, making a move, but Nagini's tail hit him hard and the fang went flying across the room, towards John. Then Neville made his own move, swinging the sword down. He wasn't fast enough. Nagini spotted him and swerved out of the way. Neville had to dive back to avoid being bit. Hermione cast a quick shield to keep the snake from them.

John picked up the fang at his feet. "Neville!" he shouted. Nagini wouldn't be able to protect herself from both sides. Neville emerged from behind Hermione's shield, sword held tight in his hand and approached the snake as slowly as John. The snake's eyes darted between them, knowing that she had to pick the real threat.

The snake made its choice, suddenly lunging out. John barely got out of the way, her fangs scraping against his shoulder. That stung. It was all the time Neville needed. As the snake reared up to make her final strike against John, the sword of Gryffindor swung through the air. Nagini's head feel inches from John's lap. He made a face.

John tried to ignore the exhaustion in his body. "Hermione, cast Prongs. Harry needs a signal."

Hermione only nodded, pointing her wand out the window. A misty white stag stood in the sky above Hogwarts. It would be a sign of victory. It had to be.

* * *

><p>It was like a game of cat and mouse and Harry was most definitely the mouse. He ducked in and out from behind walls, blowing things up as a distraction. He even sent Prongs out a few times to distract Voldemort. Unfortunately, though he was successfully wasting time, he was also getting Voldemort angrier and angrier.<p>

"Stop playing games, Potter," Voldemort called. "Face me like a man."

Harry couldn't deign that with an answer. He knew he wouldn't stand a chance in a prolonged battle. Right now he would be smart. It wasn't time to do something bordering on stupid. Voldemort made a wrong turn when he reached a split in the hallway. Couldn't have that. Harry' plan depended on keeping Voldemort in reach at all times.

Harry darted out from behind his hiding place. He ran. "Reducto!" he called, aiming the spell down the hallway Voldemort had gone down as he ran. His spell hit something, probably a wall, but Harry kept running. He felt magic rushing towards him. Ducking, the curse missed him by inches.

Harry skidded to a stop. The staircase he had been heading to had moved. It was no longer attached to his landing. "Protego!" Harry shouted, putting his all into the shield as he tried to figure out a plan. Voldemort came closer and closer and his spells barraged Harry's shield. It wouldn't hold much longer. A warm breeze brushed against the back of his neck. The window.

Backing up, he stepped up onto the window, grabbing at the wall to keep himself balanced. He couldn't turn away from his shield. Voldemort's face became clearer, his red eyes blazing in rage and magic. Voldemort paused in his approach, raising his wand. This was it. No shield charm could stop what Voldemort was going to cast next. "Avada—"

Harry jumped, letting the shield down. Twisting in the air, he cast a quick cushioning charm, silently thanking Hermione as he did so. The fall was short, only a few stories, and Harry was back on his feet. A battle was being waged before him. All moves put him in the fray and put more people in Voldemort's line of fire. But Harry had no choice as he spotted Voldemort flying through the air in black smoke.

"Voldemort coming through!" Harry warned as he dodged into the crowd of fighters. He tried to reach a space clear of people as quickly as possible. People wouldn't die because of him. Then a white light was cast over the ground. Harry looked up. Prongs. The DA calling sign. His signal.

Harry finally reached an open space and turned on his heel. Voldemort was fast approaching. Harry raised his wand and called out the first spell he could think of: "Expelliarmus!"

And like déjà-vu, Voldemort cast the killing curse as he landed on the ground. The spells met in the middle, the red and green clashing together. Harry had won this battle of wills at fourteen. He would do it again.

Harry pushed more into the spell. Slowly his disarming spell gained on Voldemort's killing curse and the red crept towards Voldemort's wand. But Voldemort wasn't stupid and he was certainly powerful. Wandlessly, Voldemort put up a shield even as he canceled his curse, moving his wand away.

It was like the Ministry again but this time, Harry held his own. He didn't need to be more powerful than Voldemort. He only needed one good day. They went curse for curse. Voldemort used dark spell after dark spell. Harry blocked what he could and dodged everything he couldn't recognize.

He sent back his own spells, trying to stun, disarm, do anything really besides be on the defensive. "Sectumsempra!" Harry shouted. Voldemort barely blocked it in time, but it gave Harry the advantage: he could finally go on the offensive.

"Impedimenta. Sectumsempra. Reducto," he let them out, one after another in quick succession. Voldemort managed to block the first two but then the last hit. It hit. Voldemort let out a howl of pain. Harry didn't think, didn't hesitate. "Crucio!"

Perhaps it took him by surprise, but Voldemort fell to his knees, screaming in pain. He dropped his wand. Harry ended the curse and quickly summoned the wand to him. The danger wasn't over. Voldemort didn't need a wand to do magic but he was certainly weakened. He seemed frailer as he got to his feet.

Harry could only watch. "You can dole it out but you can't take it, huh?" he growled out, every muscle resisting the urge to cast the Cruciatus again. It had already done its purpose.

Voldemort made a move, as if to wandlessly fling Harry off his feet. Harry was ready though. His next spell broke Voldemort's arm. Then: "Petrificus Totalus."

It occurred to him that the night had grown incredibly silent. Almost as still as Voldemort's petrified body. Harry felt himself breathing hard as he walked up to his enemy. In this war he had cast two unforgivables, but he couldn't cast the third. He couldn't cast the curse that had killed his parents.

Harry could make out the faintest hint of the sun rising in the distance. He squatted down and looked Voldemort in the eyes. Fear. Voldemort was scared. It was about damn time. "I told you that you would be dead before the sun rises," Harry told him, never averting his gaze. "I'm just happy I'm the one that gets to see to that."

Harry stood and pointed his wand down. With a slashing motion of his wand, a deep cut split through Voldemort's jugular. It would be relatively fast. Harry watched his parents' killer bleed out with a deep sense of satisfaction. One that scared the hell out of him. Harry saw when the life left Voldemort's eyes and the monster stared unseeingly up into the sky.

"Incendio," Harry mumbled. Voldemort's robes then body went up in flames and Harry just let him burn.

He turned around. The battle had stopped, all fighters having apparently stopped to watch the final duel. As Harry's eyes traveled across the battlefield, one by one Death Eaters dropped their wands in surrender. He would let the Order deal with them. He was so incredibly tired.

"Harry!"

Ron and Hermione were pushing through the crowd. Hermione leapt into his arms and Harry nearly dropped her, not having the strength to hold her up. "It's over," she whispered into his ear as she pulled away.

Harry looked at Voldemort's burning body. "Yeah, it's over."

"One hell of a duel," Ron provided. Harry looked at his best friend, finally able to appreciate that, after all these months, Ron was still alive. Harry's eyes then landed on Ginny, Luna, and Neville as they approached. And finally there was John, standing back away from them all.

Harry didn't really care right now what John had done, what he really felt. All he knew was that they were both alive. Harry pushed past his friends, giving them a smile as they each pat him on the shoulder. He even let Ginny pull him into a hug. But he didn't let them distract him.

He stopped, feet away from John even though he wanted to be so much closer. "Hey," John said.

"Hey," Harry returned, noticing John's unnaturally ghost white face.

John very suddenly dropped to the ground, his knees hitting hard. He put a hand to the ground to balance himself. Harry rushed to his side, trying to keep John up as his body seemed to grow weaker. Oh god, not now. Please not him, Harry thought over and over again. His friends were at his side but they couldn't do anything.

"Help!" Harry shouted desperately. He pulled John to him, frantically checking for wounds. His arm brushed against John's shoulder, coming away with only a little blood. He couldn't find the wound. Where was the wound? Harry realized at once as soon as he was supporting dead weight. "John—John, come one wake up." But John's head had sunk to Harry's shoulder. The war was over. He couldn't die now.

Harry became aware that someone was trying to push him aside. "Potter, move!" the voice barked harshly. Ron pulled Harry away from John as Malfoy came to check on him and was quickly joined by his mother. Harry didn't have the energy to fight. He could only watch, as if frozen. Mrs. Malfoy paused at John's shoulder, tearing his shirt away from it. A harsh cut beginning with something that looked like a shallow puncture mark.

"Was this boy bitten?" Mrs. Malfoy snapped out, head turning to look at Harry. He didn't know. He didn't know.

"The snake," Neville spoke up from slightly behind Harry. "It didn't quite get him though."

"Doesn't matter," Malfoy said. "The venom got to him. We need to get him to Madame Pomfrey," he told his mother. Mrs. Malfoy nodded and they stood. Malfoy waved his wand and, levitating John, guided him back to the castle.

"Mrs. Malfoy," Harry finally managed to get out. He pushed himself away from Ron and rushed to her side as she followed behind her son. "Is he going to…" He couldn't finish.

"I don't know, Potter," Mrs. Malfoy said. Her voice was stern but her eyes seemed to soften. "We will do our best."

Harry stopped, watching as the crowd parted to let John and the Malfoys through. People quickly averted their eyes and went about securing the Death Eaters and tending to the wounded. Grins and laughter traveled across the grounds. What were they smiling about? But then Harry remembered. Voldemort was dead. They had won.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Harry muttered. No sooner had he said that was he on the ground, heaving up whatever was in his stomach. And that wasn't much. Ron kneeled beside him, patting his back.

"Get it out, mate," he told Harry. "Just get it out."

A.N. So there's the final battle. The Forbidden Forest and Kings Cross scenes are only ever so slightly different than the books because of the inclusion of John into the conversation but also how the events over the last year resulted in a different Harry than the one we see at the end of DH. Similarly, without the Deathly Hallows and with Harry having focused on fighting, the final duel had to go differently. He accessed more of his power here since there was no wand to backfire on Voldemort. Finally, you may notice that Ron's reaction to Harry sacrificing himself was stronger than Hermione's. He has been in the castle alone, not in the Horcrux hunt. He's of a different mindset than he was in the book.

Also, so far people have chosen the AU of Pyro meeting Harry when in the Brotherhood. Hopefully, I'll start posting that at the end of December or early January. That being said, I encourage other writers to try this pairing out, mostly due to my own selfish desire to read about them.


	46. Life After War

_Mutant Son_

A.N. So almost the moment I finished my last term paper I started this. Last chapter then a shorter epilogue. I know I suggested there would be more than this but as the last two chapters were about 20 pages, this is it. Also, I've chosen to write the other AU but I am setting this story up so that I could possibly write a sequel but won't be required to.

Warnings for brief drug abuse.

**Chapter 46: Life After War **

John was going to be okay. The words of Narcissa Malfoy herself. Luckily, the needed potion worked on the magical venom, not the body of the infected person.

"So why isn't he awake yet?" Harry frustratedly asked Mrs. Malfoy, who had apparently taken John as her personal patient, letting Madame Pomfrey, Malfoy, and the St. Mungo's volunteers tend to the others. "It's been a day."

"Patience, Potter," Mrs. Malfoy responded, looking over at her patient. "It appears that Pyro's body is quite exhausted. I suppose one good thing about the venom is that it forced him into bed."

Harry sighed as he too looked John over. He did look terrible. John had always been tan, but now he was too pale and skinny too. He wasn't gaunt by no means but Harry knew John's body well: he was too thin.

Harry opened his mouth to respond when a voice from the door interrupted him. "Harry Potter." He didn't recognize the lean man with sandy-brown hair and plain gray robes, but he would bet a few galleons on the fact that the man worked for the Ministry. Harry hadn't ventured out of the hospital wing yet, but according to Hermione, a group of Ministry workers were quickly rebuilding, led apparently by a man who had been quietly working against the fake regime from the inside. Props for effort, Harry supposed, but apparently the man hadn't been very successful.

"Yes?" Harry finally responded.

"My name is Joseph Scrimgoeur," the man stepped in slightly, eyes involuntarily going to John's unconscious form. "I am with the Ministry…the new Ministry. A group of us were wondering if we could pull you away just for a few minutes. There is much to be discussed."

"Scrimgoeur?" Harry asked, studying him more closely. If he looked hard enough he saw a resemblance to the last Minister.

"Yes, I believe you met my father," Joseph offered a small smile. "You will find that you weren't the only one his methods put off."

Harry sighed. He didn't appreciate the false bonding Joseph was attempting. He didn't feel like games right now. Politics. He hated politics. "Listen, come back in a few—"

"Potter," Mrs. Malfoy interrupted briskly. "Py—St. John will not be waking up in the next few hours. I promise you: I will take good care of him."

Harry stared at her. He wanted to ask her why but now wasn't the time. Standing, he nodded at her before following Joseph out of the room.

"The Headmistress has allowed us a room over here," Joseph said as he led Harry into a room a few doors down. Harry paused as he entered. One more man he didn't recognize and Amelia Bones sat waiting for him.

He cautiously took the seat the elderly man gestured to. "Madame Bones," he offered. She sent him the slightest of smiles. Harry turned to the men.

"Potter, this is Rupert Herodotus," Madame Bones informed him. Her tone was unreadable. Harry couldn't tell whose side she was on. Side? Were there still sides? One glance at the white-haired Herodotus told him yes.

"What do you want?" Harry asked, eyes moving back to Joseph who seemed to be in charge .

"Perhaps you should show a bit more respect to your elders, Potter," Herodotus said coolly, eyes studying Harry distrustfully.

"I show respect to people who've earned it," Harry returned. He wouldn't let them treat him like a child. Not after everything. "As I've spent the last year fighting a war, hell the last few years involved in one, you'll find that I don't trust easily. And all I know about you is that I've never seen you before. Tell me," Harry leaned forward, eyes glued to the man, "were you hiding out while we were fighting the war? Or were you playing along with Voldemort?"

"Potter," Joseph inserted. Harry tore his eyes away from Herodotus. "Not everyone is a soldier. I believe that is something you've even said yourself. We," he gestured around the room, "have been fighting this war the only way we knew how. We've been preparing for Voldemort's defeat. We've organized as much as we could in hiding so that when the puppet Ministry fell, the wizarding world would not fall with it." He sent Harry a smile. It wasn't quite patronizing but there was something off about it. "Potter, I do not think you ever once thought beyond this war, beyond the battlefield. Someone had to."

That gave Harry pause. "No," he admitted. "But then again, the only thing I was interested in was taking Voldemort down." He felt mild satisfaction to see the room flinch.

"My point, exactly," Joseph continued. "It is time to rebuild. We are ready for that, we believe. But before we rebuild we must know what we're rebuilding from. And the resources available to us."

Harry stared at him blankly.

"What he means, Potter," Madame Bones said. "Is that we need to know who to trust. Currently, the policy is any individual with a Dark Mark gets put into Azkaban."

"No trials?" Harry asked, eyebrows furrowing. "How about people under the Imperius? And…" He trailed off as he realized who else that entailed. "I need to vouch for three people," he said very quickly. He couldn't believe he had forgotten, but then again, how was he supposed to know who to vouch to?

Madame Bones nodded ever so slightly as if she expected it. The men exchanged glances. Harry didn't like those glances. He was coming to suspect that the only one to be trusted in the room was Madame Bones who he knew was strict but fair.

"And who is it that you are vouching for?" Herodotus asked, leaning back in his chair.

"Severus Snape, Draco Malfoy, and St. John Allerdyce," Harry replied, hand unintentionally feeling for the lighter in his pocket.

"Draco Malfoy, of course," Madame Bones replied. "As he took the mark while still underage and left the ranks months before the final battle, excusing him is easily done. Besides the only act we can contribute to him occurred when he was underage."

"You must understand that as for Severus Snape and Py—St. John Allerdyce," Joseph continued, "we cannot just simply take your word. We need to know why you vouch for them." It seemed like an honest enough statement. Though there was something about Joseph, he didn't seem to be confrontational, just doing his job. So far. Still, the look in Herodotus's eye made Harry nervous. The man distrusted Harry, he realized. But why?

"So the fact that they both fought on our side during the final battle isn't enough?" Harry asked, eyebrows raised.

"Anyone can change sides in the heat of battle in order to save their own skins," Herodotus responded.

Harry eyed the man for a moment. "Severus Snape has been a spy for Dumbledore since the night my parents died," Harry told him. "He's been following Dumbledore's orders all these years. Even Dumbledore's death was a part of those orders. You can ask Dumbledore's portrait about that one." Honestly Harry didn't want to go into it. "As for this past year, I guess you can say he bided his time. In the last week, he's provided me with two vital pieces of information. Snape is Dumbledore's man."

"What information?" Herodotus asked.

Harry thought about it for a moment. Why hide the Horcruxes any longer? "Listen, do you want to know why Voldemort came back? Why he didn't die the same night he killed my parents?" Harry asked, looking between them. Madame Bones' eyebrows disappeared into her hair. Apparently she hadn't been expecting this one. "He made himself six Horcruxes." There was no way he was going to share the seventh one with them. No, Harry wasn't an idiot. Him being a Horcrux would not go over well.

"Impossible," Herodotus breathed out.

"As my friends and I just finished destroying them, I can assure you, he had them," Harry continued. Joseph looked as if he was thinking things over. "I couldn't kill him until we got rid of them. Snape found out where one of them was. And he passed on a message on one from Dumbledore." It was true.

"And he got the information to you?" Herodotus asked.

"Yeah…well, not all of it," Harry replied. "I didn't know he was truly on our side until last night. I knew it was a possibility. John got the information to me at first. You see Snape was Dumbledore's spy; John was mine."

"Potter, I find that hard to believe." Surprisingly that didn't come from Herodotus but from Madame Bones. "While we cannot attribute deaths to Snape, we can certainly attribute deaths to Pyro."

"John has only ever killed Death Eaters," Harry returned impatiently. "The other deaths were fakes. He just made it look like a pile of ashes…human ashes." Madame Bones went to interrupt but Harry didn't let her. "No, listen to me. Give me a name. Who did he kill?"

The three exchanged glances. Madame Bones pulled out a pile of papers but couldn't seem to find what she was looking for. "He's right," she said to Joseph. "There's no…it seems as if despite the reported deaths, all people have been accounted for."

A small smile appeared on Joseph's face. "Clever," he admitted.

Herodotus, meanwhile, took the papers from her, slipping on a pair of glasses, and flipped to the bottom of the pile. He paused, eyes rising to Harry. He neatly re-stacked the papers and leaned back again.

"Vernon Dursley," Herodotus said quite simply. Harry felt himself freeze. He tried his best to recover. "You see, you are not the first to be interviewed. We've already spoken to many of your Order." Harry thought as fast as he could. "You reported his murder to two of your members yourself."

Somehow, Harry calmed himself down. "That was fixed, too," he said.

"So Vernon Dursley is not dead?" Herodotus asked beyond skeptically.

"No, he's dead." Harry responded. "I dealt with his body myself. But John didn't kill him." Harry paused.

"Then who did?" Herodotus asked, trying to hide a smile.

"Bellatrix Lestrange," Harry informed him, careful to keep his voice neutral. "Was John there? Yeah. Should he have stopped her? I can't say. But she killed Vernon Dursley. John only burnt the body after she was done."

"And why would he do that?" Madame Bones asked. She didn't seem skeptical, just confused.

"To send me a message," Harry said. "John had to play along. I needed him as a spy." While Madame Bones didn't seem convinced, she seemed open to the idea. The men on the other hand didn't seem to be biting. "Listen, John got me the location of the Horcrux, even helped destroy a few of them. He informed me of the attack on London Bridge and, more importantly, of the one on Hogwarts. And he saved my life. He broke me and four others out of Voldemort's headquarters. He was a spy. Anything he did was necessary."

Even if Harry didn't quite believe it himself. This was the first time he was thinking about any of it since his conversation with Dumbledore at the Station as he was coming to call it. He sat back, only faintly taking in the three's faces. Harry had just been so happy to see John alive and then scared as hell when he thought John was dying. But John wasn't dying anymore. The war was over and Harry's mind was clear. And that meant everything was coming back. He wished he could forget again.

* * *

><p>It was like waking up with a really bad hang-over. The lights were too bright and his body too heavy. Forget his body. His eye-lids seemed to be weighed down by dumb-bells. Nevertheless, John slowly opened his eyes. He quickly realized why everything seemed to so bright. The sun always shun harshly on white. And the hospital wing was all white.<p>

"You're awake." John didn't see him but he would always recognize that voice. He somehow managed to turn his head, eyes landing on Harry who sat in the chair beside his bed. Harry was flipping something over in his hands. He looked a bit worn out but good. Safe. And he wasn't looking at John.

"Yeah," John agreed. He paused. "Just to confirm…my father's dead."

"Yeah," Harry offered quietly before finally meeting John's eyes. John studied them carefully. They were sad. And confused. No, things weren't forgiven. "It's over."

"The war?" John wet his lips with the tip of his tongue. Harry hurriedly handed him a glass of water. He was doing his best to not look at John as much as possible. John held back a sigh. "Or us?" Harry paused, almost dropping the glass, but he steadied himself and handed it over to John.

"John, wh…I mean…" Harry ran a hand through his hair. Clearly, he was struggling, but John didn't care. He felt like he was icing over. The pain dulled, constant but bearable. If only barely. "I mean the war is over, of course. Us…John, I don't know."

John ignored the water as he checked the side table for his lighter. Once locating it, he took a drink of water. "You don't know," he repeated.

"I think…" Harry trailed off, not looking at John again. "Can't we talk about this later? You're exhausted and you were just poisoned by a giant snake." So that's what happened. Nagini was poisonous. John supposed that should've been obvious. As for what else he had said…

"I'm fine," John said. "And why put off the inevitable, right? You're done with me."

"No," Harry denied very quickly. "I just…John I need time to think. You weren't supposed to…I mean you killed me uncle."

"I told you I would," John said harshly. "He hurt you so I hurt him. It's as simple as that. I've always told you what kind of man I am. I guess you're finally getting it."

Harry shook his head. "I don't care that you killed him and that freaks me the hell out. I know I should care but I don't. I don't what it says about me but I can forgive that, but…" It appeared that they were getting to what was really driving Harry away. Harry took a breath and John waited, pulling his lighter to him. "John I don't know if I can forgive you for Bellatrix. Merlin, it's not even about forgiveness. Why did you have…just why?"

"Why did I sleep with her? It helped with my cover. It got me in farther than anything else but killing you could," John said impatiently. Even if he knew it wasn't something Harry could just forget, he didn't quite understand why it was a big deal. He always knew that it was but not why. John flicked his lighter, dutifully pushing his own revulsion at himself away, trying not to remember what it had felt like to watch her die after she had killed Remus. John paused in mid-flick. Should he ask about Remus's kid? Newly-orphaned. No, he wouldn't.

"Harry, do you still want me? To be with me?" John finally asked, voice calm. He survived the war. He didn't go down fighting. That meant he needed to get strong again. Keep surviving. Even if that meant shutting off.

Harry seemed unsure of what to say. "More than anything," he admitted, looking so young in that moment. "But I don't know if I can." Harry let out a harsh breath, running his hand through his hair again. "I wish I could just forget, but…" Something odd passed over Harry's face. Pain? Resolve? John couldn't tell. "I guess you're right. I never listened when you tried to tell me what kind of man you really are." The instant the words were out, Harry looked like he regretted them. That he'd do anything to take them back. But it was too late. The dull pain sharpened before John could get it back in control.

John shrugged. "I don't blame you. It is what it is."

Harry stared at him disbelievingly. "Don't be that way," Harry said, face turning just a little stony. "I'm sor…" Harry wet his lips, regaining control. "You know how much you hurt me. And I know you wouldn't have had to if I didn't put you into that situation. I know this is mostly my fault. I know that and I'm sorry."

John didn't say anything so Harry stood, eyes moving to what was in his hands. John finally got a good look at it. His old lighter. Harry looked unsure about something.

"Keep it," John told him. "You can give it back when you finally make your decision." When he finally admitted that he gave up on John. Harry slowly slipped the lighter in his pocket, but didn't respond as he went to leave.

It was only when he got to the door that he turned back. "Listen," Harry said, voice clipped. "You didn't kill my uncle. Bellatrix did. You just burned his body."

John looked at him confused. "No—"

"John," Harry snapped. "You burned his body. That's it. You got it? If asked, that's all you did."

Understanding filled him. Harry had covered up for him. "They're not going to try to arrest me, are they?" John asked, propping himself up, almost ready to run. He'd rather be dead than in a cage.

"No," Harry told him. "Mrs. Malfoy says you'll be fine to leave by tonight. Professor Xavier will be waiting for you."

John practically snorted. "You're sending me away."

Harry shook his head. "No, I'm sending you home. You can go back to normal. You can have your life back." And then he left. What life? It was funny. He wanted to end the war so he could be with Harry. Now there was no Harry and it hurt. But at the same time, he felt…accomplished. His father was dead. There could be peace again. He helped with that. It wasn't worth it, but it was something. At least that was what he was telling himself for now to keep the pain at a dull level.

* * *

><p><strong>Three Months Later<strong>

"Hey, Allerdyce." John looked up from the engine he was working on. His boss, Carter, had called to him from his office. He nodded towards the garage's entrance. "Someone to see you."

John followed his nod to see Bobby waiting, hands in his pockets. His eyes darkened as he spotted Rogue standing next to him. Hadn't they broken up? Sighing, John wiped his hands on his jeans and pulled out a pack of cigarettes as he made his way over to Bobby.

"What do you want?" John asked, passing Bobby and letting him follow him out of the garage. John lit his cigarette and took a drag.

Last year Bobby would have snapped at him for the rudeness but now Bobby just ignored it. "Just wanted to let you know I'm going to be back later tonight," he said, wrinkling his nose as the smoke from John's cigarette hit him.

John eyed him, then glanced at Rogue who was clearly trying to not start any trouble by not engaging him. Not that they argued often anymore but when they did… "You know the whole can't fuck thing doesn't actually get better the next time around."

Rogue glared. "It's not like that," Bobby rolled his eyes. "A few of us are just meeting up." He paused, clearly thinking something over very quickly. John leaned tiredly against the wall as he took another drag. "Listen, Pete's going to be there. You like Pete. Maybe you can come with us."

"Bobb—" Rogue began.

"No," John said, carefully putting his cigarette out and putting it back in the pack. No need to waste. "I'm going back to work."

He turned and Bobby grabbed his arm. John shook him off but nevertheless turned to look at him. "Isn't it your lunch time? You should eat something." Bobby looked worried. John hated when Bobby looked worried. Sometimes it made him feel bad. John didn't like feeling bad.

"Don't be a nag, Drake," John told him before going back to work. Bobby watched him carefully.

Carter stopped him before he could get back to the car he had been working on. "Aren't you going to lunch?" he asked.

John rolled his eyes, pushing past him. "I don't need another person nagging me, Carter. That's what my roommate's for." He nodded over his shoulder.

"Do want you want, Allerdyce," Carter responded, heading back to his office. "But if you're not taking your lunch hour, you're leaving early. I'm not giving you over time. I don't care how good of a mechanic you are."

"Whatever," John muttered, turning back to his engine.

* * *

><p>Hermione watched from the doorway as Harry stared at the newspaper in front of him. Another politician was claiming that Harry Potter was too dangerous to be trusted. There weren't many of them who thought that way but enough to make Harry's life more difficult. Hermione suspected that Rupert Herodotus led the group but didn't have any proof to work with.<p>

Harry crumbled up the newspaper and threw it into the unlit grate. The grates were never lit in Grimmuald Place now. It was like Harry was practicing a strict policy of no fire. He was struggling and Hermione hated it. She wished she could just drag him across the Atlantic and throw him at John's door. Hermione was sure that if they weren't an ocean apart they would have gotten back together. They could never stay apart for long but the physical distance was new. It was doing its job.

Hermione had tried writing to John but he hadn't responded. Lucky for her, though, Bobby had and the two of them had been writing back and forth on the mental states of their best friends. At first Bobby had been completely angry with Harry, blaming him for everything but he had come around. While Hermione hadn't quite convinced him that Harry and John were best off together, she had convinced him that John would at least be happier with him. So Hermione had an ally on John's side for when she finally got fed up and forced the two together.

"Are you done staring at me yet?" Harry asked. She nearly jumped, not realizing that he knew she was there. Hermione entered the rest of the way into the living room. It was quite a mess. Harry barely had the energy to clean up after himself anymore. Honestly, he would probably be better off taking up Mrs. Weasley's offer for him to stay at the Burrow. Staying at Grimmuald where so much had happened was definitely unhealthy.

"I suppose," she told him. He didn't look at her. She picked up a piece of a shattered vase from the floor. "What happened to this?"

Harry glanced at her. "Banged into it," he responded. Hermione sighed. Apparently his rage attacks occurred even around inanimate objects.

"Well," she said disapprovingly as she repaired the vase and placed it on a table. "You better clean up around here. You have Teddy tomorrow night or have you forgotten?"

"Shit," he hissed out looking around. Clearly he had. "I completely forgot." He stood and took a step towards a crumbled pile of newspapers. Hermione watched as he gathered them by hand before she grew impatient and flicked her wand, sending the newspapers towards the garbage. Harry smiled at her sheepishly. "Wand, right."

But even as he took out his wand, a fire flared in the grate and the face of Joseph Scrimgoeur appeared. "Potter," the man said sharply. He didn't wait for a response as his eyes landed on Harry. "A group of the Dark Lord's supporters have been found. We need you. Meet the strike force in the Auror's office."

"I'm coming," Harry said even as the fire went out. He turned to Hermione.

"Just go," she sighed. "I'll clean up here. Honestly, can't they do anything without you?" Harry didn't answer, just disapparated with a small smile of thanks in her direction. Hermione tried not to worry, hoping that he would at least be careful this time.

* * *

><p>John finished another bottle of beer, placing the empty bottle on the coffee table. Bobby still wasn't home which meant that their apartment was empty. When John had returned to New York, he had tried to stay at the Mansion but the saying was true: you can't go back. He spent most of his time on the roof smoking or staring at the Professor and Scott as they tried to re-open their counseling sessions. It was just too surreal. One day, after John had nearly met the wrong end of Wolverine's claws starting a fist fight with the mutant (John still didn't know what he had been thinking), Bobby threw a newspaper at him, open to the classifieds. For a moment, John had thought that Bobby was kicking him out, but then he saw that all the circled apartments had two bedrooms. So Bobby and he had gotten an apartment in Queens. It was something they could afford and it was fairly convenient for Bobby's commute to his classes in Manhattan and the Mansion in Westchester. As for John, there were plenty of garages in the area. Carter had hired him off the bat, despite his lack of a resume, when John diagnosed a car they were having issues with based on the noise alone.<p>

John cracked open another beer. It was getting late but he wasn't tired. At least not for sleep. He thought briefly about the bottle of sleeping pills he had hidden under his mattress. He wasn't going to let Bobby get to these. But it was too early and John didn't feel as if he had had nearly enough to drink. As he took another sip from his beer, he heard keys in the door.

The door swung open. "Hey, John, we have company," Bobby announced. John closed his eyes for a moment, bracing himself. Bobby would never stop trying. John watched as Rogue, Jubilee, Kitty, and Pete followed in after Bobby.

"Joy," he announced.

"Are you sitting here alone drinking?" Kitty asked.

John looked pointedly at the empty beer bottles. "Are you blind?"

Rolling her eyes, Kitty switched on the t.v. and changed the channel. "There you go," she said. "At least you can say that you're watching the game." John stared at her. Kitty had always been irritatingly social. She even tried getting along with him. According to Bobby, she once had a crush on John.

"That's the Met game," he told her.

"So?" she asked.

He leaned in for the remote, flipping through the channels. "First of all, I'm not American so baseball means nothing to me. But, if we're going to put on baseball it's going to be the Yankees so that we can annoy Mr. Boston over there." Kitty and Jubilee snorted.

"Gee, thanks, Johnny," Bobby said as John switched to the Yankee game. The girls found seats in the living room and Pete dragged a chair in from the kitchen. Couldn't they hang out in the kitchen and away from him? John supposed that would defeat the point. They were here for him or rather for Bobby who asked them to come for him. Though John did get along with Pete so the Russian may have been there for him. "We have anymore beer?" Bobby asked, as he headed for the fridge.

"Another six-pack in the fridge," John informed him. "Plus some vodka somewhere for the big guy."

"You won't be drinking with me?" Pete asked.

John gestured to his beer. "I got mine. Once I finish, I'm gonna hit the sack."

"It's Friday," Jubilee said as Bobby returned with the beer and vodka. He handed Pete a glass. John avoided his eyes. He didn't want to deal with Bobby's interfering tonight. "And not even eleven. What happened to the wild Pyro we know and—"

"Hate?" John suggested.

"No, I was going to say—" Jubilee looked affronted.

"Ah, so you were going to lie to me?" John asked. He took a swig from his beer, finishing it off. He turned to Bobby. "Listen, I get what you're doing, but you forget. I don't like these people and they don't like me." He stood.

It wasn't Bobby who responded. "Come on, John," Rogue said, standing as well. "I know we're not friends but you're one of us. We care."

John laughed. "You don't care. You pretend to care to get into Bobby's good graces. You think if you're nice enough, he'll forget that the best he can get from you is a fully-gloved handjob."

He hoped that would get her angry but she held herself back. John hated that she actually cared for Bobby, that she was willing to deal with him for Bobby. He hated that she was trying to be nice. No, he just hated her.

"Listen, John, I'm sorry about what you went through this past year," Rogue continued. John's eyes flew to Bobby who had just winced. "That you sacrificed a lot and that it made you lose someone you love but you can't self-destruct."

"Bobby," John growled, turning on him. "What did you tell her?" He looked at the others who were carefully watching him. "And what is this? An intervention? Couldn't you at least get people I like?"

"Well, that's a short list, isn't it?" Jubilee snorted.

"Just calm down," Bobby told him, his blue eyes intense. "I'm tired of watching you like this, Johnny. You're so cold and when you lash out I'm actually scared you'll hurt someone. I had to do something and Hermi—"

"You've been talking to Hermione?" John snapped. "What the fuck? I tell you I want nothing to do with her and you talk with her behind my back?"

"I needed to know what happened," Bobby responded in frustration. "And you weren't talking. Please, let me help you. And you may not have gotten along with Rogue in the past but she's here for you, too."

"Why?" John sneered, turning on the aforementioned Rogue. "Because I'm one of you? I'm not one of you. I was never one of you. I'm not some peace-loving fool. I'm a killer."

Bobby took a breath. "John, you did what you had to."

"And I enjoyed it," John said with a smirk. He didn't need Bobby's help. What he needed was for him to leave him alone and let him get some sleep. Preferably now. "Did Hermione tell you what I did to Harry's uncle?" Bobby looked confused. "No, she wouldn't, would she?" he laughed. "See Hermione is just as bad as Harry. She likes to pretend I'm a good guy. Harry's eyes are open now and you…" He studied Bobby who looked wary. Yes, Bobby knew what he was capable of. What he may have done to Vernon Dursley. "You know what I am."

"You're capable of a lot when you're angry. I know that," Bobby tried. The others just watched. "I also know that you don't want to be like that. I know that you've been trying your best to be calm and stay in control every minute of every day since you got back. That you're trying to stay numb because you don't want to hurt anyone, that you take those pills—"

"Wait a minute, pills?" Rogue asked, looking between them.

"What's the matter, Rogue?" John asked, taking a step towards him. "You're fine with sucking the life out of people but not with a little recreational drug use?"

"John, you can't take that stuff," she snapped. "I mean, with what you did pre-Mansion and your mother…"

"My mother?" John asked, voice going dangerously quiet. He turned on Bobby who was staring at Rouge open-mouthed. "What the fuck did you tell her? I tell you something in confidence and you go gossip to your bitch."

"I didn't—" Bobby said very quickly, obviously confused.

"He didn't tell me anything," Rogue took a step between him and Bobby. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Peter stand-up. John felt his lighter in his hand. When had he gone for his lighter? He rubbed a thumb over the surface. He felt the engraved _Pyro_. "At Bobby's house…with the cops. I got some of your memories. John I understand you." She took a step closer to him. "I have a little bit of you in my head." She tapped her forehead.

John sneered. "You understand nothing." He smirked as an idea came to him. "You want to see what kind of sociopath I really am?" And then he lunged. He heard people yelling as he grabbed Rogue's arm, but Rogue had always paid attention during Danger Room sessions. She twisted her arm out of his grasp and sent her own punch. He blocked. John had gotten better, too. He had been booking his own Danger Room sessions. But he wasn't interested in winning the fight. Just touching her. John tackled her. Most of her skin was covered. He felt someone tug at him. He tore himself out of her grasp and found skin. If she wanted to understand him…He felt his breath being sucked out of his body. It felt…it felt good. The yells began to fade away.

And then it all stopped as he was pulled away from her. John panted as he tried to catch his breath. Bobby moved away from him as Peter pulled Rogue up to check on her. John laughed as Bobby glared. He braced himself against the wall as the world spun briefly.

"What the fuck were you thinking?" Bobby shouted as Rogue gained back her own breath. The girls went over to check on her, too. Rogue stared at him. He hoped to see fear, hatred, but no. His stomach sank. She pitied him. What had she seen?

John glared back at Bobby, brushing his hair roughly out of his face and turning on his heel. He slammed his bedroom door behind him. What had he just done? He could've done some real damage to her. Rogue didn't need another person in her head. He had let his anger take control and he was still angry.

John's eyes landed on the lamp on his small desk and he grabbed it, hurling it against the wall. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath but he wasn't calming down. When he opened his eyes, he spotted the mattress. He didn't think, heading straight to mattress and shoving his hand under it. His fingers closed around the pill bottle. He pulled it out roughly and took out an indiscriminate amount of pills out. He would go to sleep. Hopefully, he'd be calmer when he woke up. Taking the pills, he threw himself into bed and waited until he lost consciousness.

* * *

><p>"Good job, Potter," Auror Donohue said as he patted Harry on his back. They had busted the group of Voldemort's followers relatively without problem. None of the followers were Death Eaters, just sympathizers so they weren't the best of duelers, certainly no match for a group of aurors and Harry who wasn't technically an auror.<p>

"Thanks," Harry responded, eying a few aurors who were muttering amongst themselves and glancing over at him. If Harry could get away with leaving before debriefing, he'd have been gone already.

Instead of moving on, Donohue followed Harry's eyes. "Listen, Potter, don't mind them. The department is still a men's club, you see. You know, despite some of the stellar female aurors we have had in recent years."

Harry snorted. "Donohue, I'm a guy."

Donohue re-thought his words almost sheepishly. He was a nice enough man. In fact, he sometimes reminded Harry of Ron in the fact that he often spoke before thinking his words over. "Well, what I meant…I mean. Look at it this way Potter, you are barely this side of eighteen and haven't gone through the training we all went through. You are a kid to them."

Harry resisted snorting the second time. "Yeah, the kid who helped lead the Order of the Phoenix. And, you know, killed Voldemort."

"What are you talking about?" Dawlish asked as he joined them.

"Apparently I'm either a girl or kid," Harry told him. While he wasn't quite a fan of Dawlish, the man had fought with him in the Order.

Dawlish looked to Donohue who shrugged. "I was telling him the Auror Department is a men's club. And Potter is a little young." Dawlish nodded slowly.

"But that's not the problem, is it?" Harry asked as he read one of the 'men's club' aurors' lips. "Apparently, I'm a fag."

Donohue looked at him guiltily. "Well, I wouldn't use that word but…"

"That's about their problem, yeah," Dawlish agreed.

Harry eyed the group one more time before making his decision. "You guys going to gossip or you going to tell me your problem to my face," he said as he took a step away from Donohue and Dawlish.

"Potter," Donohue warned.

"No, it's fine," Harry continued as the group watched him. "I'm here because I want to make sure the war really ends this time around. Hey, it's not even like I exactly invited myself. The Minister asked me to be here. You have a problem with my personal life. Well, I think I rather fuck another man than know that I played along with Voldemort's puppet Ministry. Just saying."

"Yes, you only crawled into bed with his spawn," Ramsey replied. He was one of Herodotus's men. "Then you make all this noise about standing against corruption, yet you covered up for your boyfriend. We've all heard about your uncle."

"I wouldn't listen to rumors, Ramsey," Harry replied. He took a step towards the man. "Otherwise, I'd—"

But Harry never got to play his hand because, at that moment, Ron burst into the Auror's office. "Ron…wha—"

"You need to come with me," Ron interrupted him.

"But I need to report," Harry responded, eyebrows furrowing.

"Harry, come with me," Ron said very slowly. Harry nodded, following after him even as Donohue called back for him. As soon as the door closed behind Harry, Ron turned. "Listen, Harry, it's Pyro."

Harry froze. "What happened?"

"I'm not sure," Ron told him. "His friend Bobby had someone floo Hermione. He's in the hospital. Hermione's there."

* * *

><p>"I can't believe I let this happen," Bobby said, head in his hands. His friend Rogue rubbed his back.<p>

"Bobby, this isn't your fault," she told him.

Hermione nodded. "She's right. You can't blame yourself."

"But I knew about the pills," Bobby insisted. "I was monitoring them for a while. He was using them regularly but I figured that as long as he didn't go overboard with them he'd be fine. I'm such an idiot."

"You're his friend, not his keeper," Rogue said softly.

"Again, I agree," Hermione offered uselessly. Which was a bit hypocritical because if it was Harry, Hermione would feel the same way. But Bobby couldn't blame himself for John overdosing on sleeping pills. "Besides the doctor said he'll be fine."

It was silent for a few moments. "Where's your friend?" Rogue asked, glancing at the clock.

"I sent my boyfriend to get him," Hermione replied, eying a passing doctor. No, not for them.

Rogue paused. "Him?" She turned to Bobby. "Him?" she asked again. Bobby only nodded absentmindedly. "Wow…John's gay?"

"You didn't know?" Hermione asked, surprised.

Rogue shook her head. "Bobby only said that he had fallen in love with someone who broke his heart." Hermione glared over at Bobby who shrugged.

"I knew weeks into meeting him," Hermione told her. "I just thought it was something he was completely open about."

"He was trying to seduce Harry, wasn't he? He doesn't really talk about it, you just saw him trying to score." Bobby tried to get into the conversation but he wasn't completely there.

Rogue covered her mouth, gasping. "Oh god, I just realized." She stared at Bobby. "That's why he hates me. He wanted you for himself."

"Not in the way you think," Bobby said. He paused, making a face. "Or not completely. He's just incredibly possessive."

Hermione smiled. "No kidding." After all, John had almost gone off on her when he thought she had watched Harry shower.

"Hermione!" Ron and Harry rushed into the waiting room.

"Oh, thank Merlin," Hermione responded. Bobby shook his head at the expression.

"What happened?" Harry asked. His voice was very calm but his stance was unsure, worried.

"He…" Hermione glanced at Bobby to see if he'd answer, but Bobby was carefully not looking at Harry. That didn't bode well. "The doctor said he'll be fine but he overdosed."

"Overdosed?" Harry asked, confusedly looking to Bobby who still wouldn't look at him. "On what? John's not a drug addict."

"Sleeping pills," Bobby told him finally. "I guess he was driven to it, huh?" His voice was confrontational and his fists tightly clenched. His fists seemed to be frosting over.

"Don't ice over," Rogue hissed, glancing around to the nurses' station. "Not here."

Harry on the other hand had turned his intense gaze to Bobby. "And where were you?" Harry asked, stepping towards him. "You're supposed to be looking out for him."

Bobby stood. "What? So you turn him into your own personal weapon and break his heart and I'm the one to blame here?"

"No one's to blame," Rogue stood, stepping in front of him, even as Ron did the same with Harry. "You got that?" She sent her own glare at Harry.

Harry seemed to deflate. "No, he's right," he sat down, running his hand through his hair. "I did this."

Bobby appeared surprised. He glanced at Hermione confusedly. "No, you did not, Harry," Hermione said, grabbing his hand. "John's a big boy. He made his own decisions." She looked to Bobby. "And it's no one's job to take care of him. He's an adult." Bobby sat down again with a small nod. He studied Harry worriedly for a moment. Hermione followed his gaze. Yes, Harry was blaming himself. "Harry, you had a right to be angry."

"I wasn't angry," Harry said softly. He met her eyes. "I was hurt and I was…I started believing everything he said about himself. I thought…" But whatever it was he thought, it was as if he couldn't bear to say it out loud. "Was it on purpose?" Hermione stared at him. What? Harry looked to Bobby. "Did he try to…"

Bobby shook his head roughly. "No, the doctor said it was probably an accident. We…" He swallowed. "I tried to help him but I screwed up. There was a fight. He kind of…well he attacked Rogue."

"That's only kind of true," Rogue inserted. "He lashed out, yeah, but he was only trying to show me who he thought he was."

"Huh?" Ron asked.

"My mutation," she explained. "When people touch me, I get some of them in my head. Their memories, their personalities. I told him I understood him. He wanted to prove me wrong."

"So you're the…" Harry started before making a face. "Never mind."

"Soul sucking bitch?" she asked. "Yeah, that's me. It's alright. You were dating the sociopath."

"John's not a—" Harry snapped angrily.

"I know," Rogue interrupted him. "But it's the best response I got." Harry shut his mouth, hand traveling to his pocket as everyone quieted down.

Hermione watched as Harry pulled out the lighter. He stared intently at it. "I was wondering where that went," Bobby said quietly. Harry met his eyes.

"He told me to give it back to him when I finally made my decision," Harry said to him, flicking the lighter open experimentally. The nurse at the desk glared at him so he quickly closed it.

"What decision?" Bobby asked. Hermione looked to Rogue and Ron, trying to convey not to interrupt.

"I told him I needed time to think," Harry explained. "That I couldn't just forget." Harry let out a choked laugh. "I still haven't forgotten. The shit he did. It's hard to forget."

"I'm sure," Bobby said, comfortingly. Apparently he had gotten over his anger which wasn't a surprise. Personally, Hermione always found staying angry with Harry rather difficult. It was the sad eyes. "But sometimes you can't forget and you can't forgive. You just have to work through it. You know, if it's worth it." Harry stared.

"Excuse me, Mr. Drake," a nurse stood near the door. Bobby stood quickly. "He's not awake but you can sit with him now. One at a time."

Bobby turned to Harry. "I'm sure he rather wake up to your face than mine," he offered.

"You sure?" Harry asked, nevertheless standing.

"Like ninety-five percent. Now go before I change my mind," Bobby took a seat. Sending him a grateful look, Harry followed after the nurse.

"You know they belong together," Ron said. Hermione stared at him. "It's only fair that Harry ends up with someone who gets himself in trouble or unconscious just as much as he does."

Hermione laughed. She couldn't help it. It was true.

* * *

><p>It really was like déjà-vu, though waking up this time was a lot worse than either a hang-over or snake venom. John's head had to weigh about fifty pounds.<p>

"You're awake." Yeah, definitely, déjà-vu.

"Just to confirm," John started blearily. "I am awake, right?"

"Yeah," Harry offered a small smile. "Then again I might say that in a dream, too."

"That doesn't really help," John tried to sit up but the room spun. He paused before trying again, this time a little slower. Once he settled, he and Harry just looked at each other. Then he realized something. "Why am I in the hospital?"

"You overdosed," Harry informed him almost guiltily. "Sleeping pills apparently."

"I didn't—"

"Mean to?" Harry asked, voice going a little sharp. "Yeah, so the doctor says." Harry sighed, apparently calming down again. "Sorry, it's just…John this is the second time you're in hospital bed in three months."

"Worried you have some competition?" John asked. Harry smiled and John felt it all the way in his stomach. It had been a long time since he saw that smile directed at him. Harry's face grew serious as he eyed him.

"Here," Harry handed something over to him. John grabbed it and opened his hand. His shark lighter? It felt as if his heart stopped for a moment. "I made my decision." So Harry was giving up on him. John flicked the shark lighter open. He fumbled. His hands felt a little odd. He tried again, successfully this time. "I want to work things out." Wait, did he just say what John thought he said? John stared. Harry looked at his hands. "I mean if you still want me."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" John asked. Harry shook his head. John's face broke out in a grin. Then Harry did something that made John's heart skip a beat, this time in the best way possible. Harry sent John his favorite brilliant smile. "Do I get a kiss now?"

"You're recovering," Harry said unsure.

"I'm asking for a kiss not crazy, wild sex," John rolled his eyes, tugging at Harry's arm. "Well, I'm asking for that too just not in the hospital." Harry shook his head at him before leaning in and finally giving John that kiss.

It was soft, nice, but it wasn't enough. John tugged him in closer and Harry barely prevented himself from falling on top of him. Not that John would mind but he wasn't feeling his best. John deepened the kiss, running his tongue along Harry's bottom lip until Harry let him in.

John made a noise in the back of his throat, running a hand along Harry's hip, slipping lower. Harry pulled away. "I thought not in a hospital."

"Changed my mind," John said against Harry's lips. He ran a finger under Harry's waistband.

"I'm not doing this here," Harry said, pulling away.

"Fine," John threw himself back into the bed. "Then get me checked out so I can have my way with you."

"You're impossible," Harry shook his head, heading for the door. "But I'll get the doctor to check on you."

"Then you get me out of here so we can have sex," John confirmed.

Harry grinned. "Whatever you say, Johnny."

"Hey, Harry," John called as Harry went to leave again. Harry paused. "Don't forget your lighter."

Harry returned for the shark lighter, slipping it into his pocket. He glanced at John for a moment before heading back out. John watched him go. He couldn't remember overdosing. What he had even been thinking. He knew not everything was fixed. That being with Harry couldn't fix everything. But this was a wake-up call. He didn't survive as long as he did to die at his own hand. To become his mother. He had to be strong. For Harry. For himself.

Harry and John would work things out. They had to. He needed a life after war.


	47. Epilogue

_Mutant Son_

A.N. So last chapter was supposed to be it but luckily for those of you who wished it, I've done an epilogue. And came up with an idea. It's really short, just a bit of an extra scene to give an idea of what life together means for them now.

**Epilogue:**

"So when is he showing up?" Kitty asked, nearly bouncing in her seat.

"Soon," Rogue rolled her eyes.

"Hey, that's not fair. You already met him," Kitty defended herself, glancing towards the door. "We've," she gestured towards Pete, Jubilee, and even the room behind her, "have yet to meet the guy who domesticated Pyro."

"Domesticated?" Bobby asked doubtfully.

"You know," Jubilee started, taking a drink of water. "Boyfriend, baby every other weekend."

"So basically I'm a woman who lost her custody suit," John stated as he joined them. Bobby let out a short laugh as Rogue hit him lightly on the shoulder. John and Rogue nodded to each other. It still couldn't be said that they liked each other, but somehow they had reached a level of mutual respect. As long as Rogue kept dating the new guy, Remy Lebeu, of course. John still didn't think she was good enough for Bobby. In fact, he sometimes found himself wishing that Hermione wasn't dating Ron. Well, more than sometimes.

Jubilee and Kitty exchanged glances. "Basically," Jubilee agreed.

John turned to Bobby. "Remind me why I'm here," he said quite painfully.

"Because Scott wants to meet your boyfriend when he's not secretly dragging me off to rescue you," Bobby informed him brightly. "And it's his birthday so you feel obliged."

"Oh yeah, that," John replied, eying a couple of laughing students warily. "Remind me never to feel obligated again?"

"So when is he showing up?" Kitty asked again, this time directing her question at John. She looked behind him. "I thought he was coming with you."

John shrugged. "I think he has a meeting with their Minister." He paused. "Actually, I think that might've been yesterday. Maybe he's taking that interview Hermione bullied him into."

"Interview?" Pete asked.

"I didn't think Harry could be convinced to do anything promoting his own fame," Bobby looked to John.

"It's not a fame thing. It's a damage control thing. A bunch of politicians have been painting him as a loose cannon," John told him, eying the door.

Scott joined them. "Where is this boyfriend of yours?" Scott asked as he came over.

John rolled his eyes. "And you people call me impatient. Maybe he's off saving the day. He likes to disappear and do that kind of shit." The door to the rec room swung open and the Professor wheeled in with Harry. "Ah, there he is. Go bother him now."

The group turned to look. Harry quickly became uncomfortable as he became the center of attention. "Aw, he's cute," Jubilee grinned.

"He's not a puppy," Bobby replied, rolling his eyes. "And trust me, he's not so cute when John's holding him back from doing some serious damage to someone."

"Maybe not, but it's hot as hell," John smirked, pulling out his lighter.

Bobby stared at him. "You're seriously damaged. And hey Harry." The Professor and Harry came to a stop in front of the group. Harry gave Bobby a small smile in greeting. Bobby turned to the rest. "Guys this is Harry Potter. Harry, this is Kitty, Jubilee, and Pete. And you've already met Rogue and Scott." He gestured to each person in turn.

"Nice to meet you, everyone," Harry offered.

John watched him in amusement. "You're late. They've been harassing me about where you were."

Harry failed to hold back a wince. "Yeah, I had to talk to Hermione's reporter friend."

"How did your interview go?" Rogue asked.

"Er…" Harry ran a hand through his hair. "Kind of terrible actually. I'm not any good at them." John snorted and Harry glared at him before turning to Scott. "Happy Birthday."

"Thanks, kid," Scott responded, studying him carefully. John did his best to hold back a grin as Harry shifted uncomfortably. "So about dragging Bobby off on a half-assed rescue mission…"

* * *

><p>Harry apparated them directly back to the apartment. "That was awkward," he said. "Bobby didn't have to stay at the Mansion, you know. This <em>is<em> his apartment."

John smirked. "I don't think he wanted to be here."

"I'd put up a silencer," Harry rolled his eyes. "Though maybe not. He actually laughed while Scott scolded me for a half hour."

"Welcome to my life," John said, grabbing Harry as he went to pull away. "So was the interview really that bad?"

Harry looked at him. "Do you really want to talk about that right now?" he asked before his face broke out in a grin. "Because I really don't feel like talking."

John smirked, pulling him closer. "You're right," he said before Harry kissed him. Harry slipped his hand to the back of John's neck and guided him closer. John bit at his bottom lip before Harry slipped his tongue in his mouth. And again it was their usual battle for dominance.

John began pushing Harry back towards the bedroom. Harry fumbled for a moment with the door knob before somehow managing to turn it. John pushed Harry back onto the bed and straddled him. He pulled away as he lifted Harry's shirt up and over his head. Harry watched him, hand running along the scar across John's side before unbuttoning his shirt. The task was made harder as John reinitiated their kiss, hand groping for Harry's fly.

"Harry," John got out against his lips.

"Hmmm?" Harry kissed him again.

"You staying the night?" he asked, pulling away.

"Yeah," Harry breathed as he finally got the chance to pull John's shirt off. His eyes turned to John's, dark but not entirely focused.

"Good," John grinned, pinning him down further and slipping his leg between Harry's. He pushed. "Because you're not gonna have the energy to move when I'm done with you."

"No more t-talking," Harry managed to get out as John's lips found the pulse point on his neck. And that was fine with John.

A.N. Thank you to all my readers and reviewers, old ones and those who hopefully eventually find this story. I really enjoyed writing this, especially with the feedback I've gotten from loyal reviewers. So thank you guys especially. I'll try to get the first chapter out for my next story as soon as possible. Hopefully, you'll enjoy that one too.


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